one day I return
to the island amongst the trees
hidden away behind the blue waves
buried in fine-grain sand
I don't know I'm looking for something
but somehow I know it's not there
my memories tell me alive
but my eyes tell me decaying
my memories tell me beautiful
but my eyes tell me dying
because a child's yellow dress
hangs from a tree
a gentle breeze tugging at the ripped fabric
and I don't need memories
to tell me that the child I once was
died long ago
with the boys who promised her infinity

sometimes i go off
about these worlds
that i make up
in my head.

because when the world
is so messed up,
don't you
want another?

i spend
so much time
just living
in these worlds,
     just thinking.

about
trivial things

     like:
how come clouds
get to be so high
that it's like they're flying,
when all they do is bring rain?

     or:
why do we spend
so much time
obsessing over the fact
that we don't have much time at all?

but i think
that maybe
in these worlds i make up,
it's not so bad.

sure,
there are bad guys
but when are there not?

the thing is,
in my world,
i'm not one of those
bad guys.

i'm the one
with the cape
and the mask
and i am the one
     who saves the day.