You say life is but a dream.
Well then when will I wake up?
I'm tired of living in this lie.
This fantasy.

You've diluted these waters I swam in.
You've poisoned my sweet serenity.
How could you ever look me in the eyes and tell me the truth?
You have drowned me in my own existence.

I'm struggling to wake from this nightmare.
I can barely tell right from wrong all while I'm trying to right the wrong you've perpetrated against me.
I'm struggling to resurface.
You constantly hold my head under while I drown away.

And now I've become the deadpool.

So come and take a swim.

That cold slab of concrete,
It just sits there.
Sits through the sunshine,
Wallows in the moonlight.
It beckons for us.
It enjoys our company,
Because it had gotten used to our capacity.
We'd pass monosyllabic expressions back and forth,
As if it resembled gunfire.
We'd share laughs like they were on sale,
And we had coupons to buy them.

I looked at it today.
I stared at that cold slab of concrete.
Images filled my mind of parties and celebrations,
We had the best times there.
We, meaning we all shared in the good.
But when it came to bad times,
There was only one occupant,
Me.
I wore the burden of pain.
It's like you didn't even care.
You'd run just like the rest of them.
You'd run toward anything other than me.
You'd run like you saw laughs on sale,
And you had coupons to buy them.

I sat on that cold slab of concrete today.
I was actually glad I was alone.
The silence was soothing,
Like an early morning beach breeze.
Knowing that no one would run or ignore,
That reassured me.
It was nice to sit on that cold slab of concrete.

I sat there and said to myself,
"I think I like it here... by myself."

I got up and left,
Just like all of you did.
But next time, I'd be back.
And the time after that,
And the time after that time,
And for many more times after that.

If they ever put that cold slab of concrete up for sale,
I'd buy it.
Too bad you ran away with all my coupons.

I always said that I'd be there in the end.
No matter when that would come, I'd be there.
I looked you deep in the eye and told you that the end would never be unpleasant.
You'd never be alone.
I'd never let go of the rope.

But I did.

Or did you cut it?

Because all I'm doing now is falling.
It's like I'll never reach the end.
I keep seeing these moments etched in the darkness I am plummeting through.
The smiles, the tears, the heartache, the pain.
I see it as it is; it resembles a castle of glass.
With one big crack down the center.
But it stops right in the middle; the location almost symbolic of where a human heart would be stationed.
Around it I see a ring of fire glowing.
Glowing and burning and burning and glowing bright.
It's as if its preserving something delicate.
Something tender.
Like, love.
The love that was extinguished from my very being.

Out of my lungs like someone cut it out.

Like one would cut a rope.

I inch my trembling hand closer to what's inside this ring of fire.
It resembles a note.
I open it, and read what's written.
And in the most delicate,
Tender,
Lovely handwriting I've ever seen,

It reads:

The end.

These... scars on this desk. They're markings,
Redefined.
And these hand prints on the wall... they're memories
Of mine.
Tiny thoughts trying to escape my brain.
But what they don't know is, they're free to go.
You see man, these thoughts of mine are like grains of sand.
They're all stuck together, but there is so much of it.
So many ideas racing through my mind.
That's the key term, my mind.
Man, no wonder they're trying to escape.
My mind is an imaginarium where belief and hope have collided with lies and insanity to make a new feeling called: Complacency.
I've reached this state of nirvana where I can kick my feet up and relax.
I can sit in my rocking chair and watch the world burn.
"Oh, what a wonderful world."
Look at all those people run.
But they're not running with their legs, they're running their mouths.
They're spewing garbage and lies about themselves to attain a higher place on a higher pedestal.
But those pedestals.... they're made of,
People.
Bodies, skulls, blood, bones.
But more importantly... they're made up of,
Ideas.
The hormone that rushes the body along.
The juice that keeps the body hydrated.
The ideas of our minds are indestructible.
They will live forever.
No wonder they're trying to escape.
Ideas were brave Kings upon a mountaintop, but those Kings are now dead.
These Kings are now beggars at the gates of Hell.
Because only the good ones go to Heaven.
The best of Saints may be the worst of sinners.
But their ideas carry weight in gold.
But if we're speaking about ideas,
What are those anyways?

The scars or the hand prints?

This is for all the boys and girls.
You, yes you know who you are, the ones who go through hell.
Who go through hell day after day and yet are still breathing.
How do you do it?
Well, you do what I do. You fight.
You fight until your knees give out, and then you keep fighting.
It's like we all carry first class gold memberships to Hell.
We're first on the guest list.
God, how are our feet still there after walking through Hell so many times?
How are our eyebrows not singed from the burn?
How are we not dead yet?
Why do we keep fighting for a cause we know that we won't receive?
We won't win?
We won't reach?
The cause we wake up every morning sad about because we don't have it.
The relationship we long for, the happiness we wish to attain, the imaginary world called sanity we wish to discover.
Why can't we have what we want?
Why do we suffer?
Well, I'll tell you why.
And I know from experience.
We can't win because we are the only brave and true fighters left.
If we weren't fighting, there would be no one fighting.
We'd all have what we wanted.
But that's not how the world works, the world needs to have a battle.
Which requires fighters.
Which means us.
The ones who go through Hell like it's our path to the bathroom.
We have to fight the battle.
Even though we didn't sign up in the first place.
We're the ones that wish for what we want.
We make the 11:11 wishes, we pray, we long for, heck, we even follow those stupid things on Facebook that say "Make a wish, count to one hundred, blink twenty times, and repost this and your wish will come true, but if you don't repost this you'll never get your wish."
Well, I guess I have to stop reading that, or at least start reposting.
My wishes never come true from doing that but at least I believe enough to do it.
Believing is what keeps me going.
It's what keeps us all going.
It's the pillow to lay our heads on after a long day of battle.
It's the Nutella(R) to indulge ourselves in when we feel sad, happy, lazy, or even if it's a sweatpants and t-shirt kind-of-day.
It's the last bit of gas in the tank that gets us to the next gas station instead of breaking down on the interstate.
It's the denial in some, but it's the blood in me.
Because I'm more than just a body of blood and bones, and so are you.
You're a believer too.
So fight for your goal.
Reach for it.
Shoot for it.
Repost the Facebook statuses to make it come true.
It doesn't make you a bad person.
We all have our weaknesses, we all have our flaws.
Heck, even on my best days my evil ways still show.
But I don't worry about that.
Because I leave the mystery of me open to the world's interpretation.
And you should to.
Because at the end of the day, you'll never finish the battle you wage with the world.
So never, ever give up.
Even when you're breath is gone and your blood has poured, keep going.
Because in the end, we'll get that dream car we want.
We'll get that perfect job.
The great Hercules-like body.
The relationship we try so hard for.
We'll finally receive the true meaning of what it means to believe.
And when we get that my friends.
Our battle will be over.

I smile.
You smile.
Your face tells a story.
My favourite book to read.
And every time you walk by,
I have to check my vital signs to see if I'm still breathing.
Because you take my breath away.
And even though we don't know,
Each other that well.
I really want the time to cross paths.
I keep holding onto hope even if no one else knows why.
Because you mean a lot to me,
Even if you don't realize it.
You make me smile in the saddest of times.
Your cute laugh.
Your priceless smile.
It draws me in like a pencil; erasing all doubts.
I just don't know what to do.
I know there might be a chance.
But what if there isn't?
What if you turn out like all the others?
I don't want that, you don't want that.
Why chase something that I'll never reach?
But I want to reach you so badly.
Too badly.
So sadly.
Bye-bye.
And that feels like the end of another hopeless journey.
Ended too soon.
Good-bye.
I'll miss you.

If I could go back to that night and live it over and over, I would.
I'd go back one million times over.
And then some.
The time we shared was short, but filled with so many memories.
We walked around looking for our destiny, but we couldn't find the destination.
Once we did, it was vacant, just like the hope we had of now having a good time.
But we marched on.
Led by a beast, we walked toward a nightmare.
A long, long, long walk.
Through the lights and sounds, the noise all around.
We walked town to town it seemed like, until some of us started to have doubts.
So, in that next moment, I was off on foot to try and save our weary souls.
I soon reached my target, and I drove the getaway car toward salvation, literally.
After missing the right signs with so many wrong turns, I finally found good news.
I sped toward the west end, bypassing every fall.
I passed the destination, but found my friends in the streets.
They were just looking for some Family.
We rode together toward the flashing light of prosperity, and found the rest of our gang.
We stood together as one, and even though it was scary, even though we got separated, and even though there was moisture, we came out together.
We started to part ways.
But soon most of us were back in the saddle together, tighter than most families.
We soon drove way out to the country where there's five forks in the road, not just one.
Then, as night lagged on, I found my way home.
I layed down in my bed, still feeling, no, still wishing I was there.
Oh, if only I could go back.
Because if I could live it over and over.
I would.