the fear beats
concrete pillows and
cold alleyways
though
as white lines go by
I wish that they
would continue
interrupted but
focused enough to
lead me there
inferior, but
motivated regardless
such is such
and life is life
lead me to pillows fluffed
in understanding, a bed fit for
a delusional king,
grounded in the caress
of intrigue, with the
spirit of the dreamer
dangling up overhead
take me to where I
can dare to indulge in
the freedom of waking
with the sun, the right
and reason to chase it
to its ends, the need to
be where it finds its
refuge in the dark,
the moon resonating
slight, slipping memory
of since passed splendor
allow me to love,
whatever that means
paper thin walls,
foolish dreams, countless
meaningless things
that bring meaning
to those things
countable and concrete
and in no discreet way
I long for life
for despair
for humanistic helplessness
subject to all things beautiful
and eternal
the fear is in fact the pillow,
the comfort, the shelter
the reminder-
and yet the distraction
*one must, one must
turn gold to dust*
take the place of
random space,
and fill it with the
tarnished grace
the flaws, the tragedy
the confusing beauty
of it all
I want it to disappear
into my heart
mind
and soul
stardust and delusions,
my being
my mystery
that is what all
is and must be
and I will see this through
I will be consumed
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
the fear beats
concrete pillows and
cold alleyways
though
as white lines go by
I wish that they
would continue
interrupted but
focused enough to
lead me there
inferior, but
motivated regardless
such is such
and life is life
lead me to pillows fluffed
in understanding, a bed fit for
a delusional king,
grounded in the caress
of intrigue, with the
spirit of the dreamer
dangling up overhead
take me to where I
can dare to indulge in
the freedom of waking
with the sun, the right
and reason to chase it
to its ends, the need to
be where it finds its
refuge in the dark,
the moon resonating
slight, slipping memory
of since passed splendor
allow me to love,
whatever that means
paper thin walls,
foolish dreams, countless
meaningless things
that bring meaning
to those things
countable and concrete
and in no discreet way
I long for life
for despair
for humanistic helplessness
subject to all things beautiful
and eternal
the fear is in fact the pillow,
the comfort, the shelter
the reminder-
and yet the distraction
*one must, one must
turn gold to dust*
take the place of
random space,
and fill it with the
tarnished grace
the flaws, the tragedy
the confusing beauty
of it all
I want it to disappear
into my heart
mind
and soul
stardust and delusions,
my being
my mystery
that is what all
is and must be
and I will see this through
I will be consumed
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