As I sit in silence, so crystal and serene,
I knew at that very moment, I was only in a dream.

The texture was too sticky, the contrast not quite right,
I have to force myself into the breaking of the light.

The place not bound simple movement or defined by restricted equations,
But the purest forms of love, found only in true elation.

I take a draw of haze, to batter my frustrations,
I begin to realize, anger is only a manifestation.

Of aspects taken to heart, in the mornings aspirations,
Were merely broken dreams in a morbid mental *******.

But I take no solace, no entertaining rapport,
In the blinded manipulations that were intruded on the floor.

It is not the isolation of a soul too old for its line,
It is lost in the constant segregation of a love forgotten in time.

Now I witness the horror, before the breaking of the light,
my love is just a memory, in clichéic hematite.

Or is it too much for this world, this reality, this dimension.....maybe I am...another universal contradiction.