i dont know what i am more upset with or who.
the world for making my dreams to high and far away to catch
or me for not trying hard enough
its tough to try
to reach the heights of the epire state building
to cross the atlantic ocean by just swimming it
to fly to hong kong with a jet i made all.by.my.self.
its hard to reach these things that are called dreams,
these things we are told to create at such a small age,
that disney makes so easy to come alive,
at a wish upon a star,
at a rub at a bottle,
with a simple kiss with some random guy ive never met.
dreams are so far away
my dreams that i oh so long for
the things i can taste so strongly when pucker my lips,
the dreams i can see so clearly when i shut my eyes real hard and wait until the tears come flowing down my open pored cheeks,
when the salty rivers take over my face and die the color of my skin to pink
these dreams
im supposed to be so excited about and spend my life catching
but when there is no way to get there
with out the right plane, with out the right map,
with out the right pilot without the right tools,
theres no way to reach my silly ol dreams that i stare at in the mirror every **** day,
that i stare at through the television scree,
that i dream about and replace myself with another
i can see myself so clearly
i know i can make it
i know i could sucseed i know i can
if i was just given that passport, that right pilot
to cross the ocean and land in the right airport
but for now i have nothing
but a jar of wishful thinking,
and a page full of remorse,
and cheeks stained of salt water,
and a computer whos keys are so tired of me expressing the same **** feeling,
dreams,
will remain
in my sleep.