Drowning,
is that what this feels like?
suffocated by nothing but air,
duties to preform,
but nothing gets done.
working hard,
but blamed for getting no where.
something fun that went a-rye.
power mad authorities,
wishing for control.
chains refusing to allow,
this wasn't how it was meant to be.
Friends laughing and enjoying life,
not to be mesmerized by the numbers of unfair calculations.
Hard work that spiraled to the ground when that power wasn't enough.
No more titles,
no more 'authorities'
in this happy place I created we do what is enjoyed with those who share an interest.
Not in the budget,
than make it so, or just don't go.
We can have fun other ways.
Simple can be fun as long as no one corrupts us.
it was my creation,
but I am equal to those who come.
Money is not a priority,
power is not our undoing.
It was meant to be enjoyed,
and reminiscenced after these few years,
not the cause of agony and failure.

They walk past it on the side walk,
sometimes they speak to it as though it still exists,
They see the dust of what it used to be,
and can feel the future that it will never have,
It had ambitions,
they no longer matter after the Earth took such luxuriances away.
The wind drags it into the night air,
where no one will see it.
It's shoes will be overflowing with the dust that was once flesh.
It's memories will carry on,
as those who had encountered it,
their memories deteriorate.
This is a future fretted over needlessly.
The idea that i am but a number,
one in billions.
one day i will disappear into the crowd,
my remains nothing more than a ghost of what I once once.

hoping, wishing, dreaming, praying;
despite a variety of titles you can name it, the day I have been waiting for is within sight.
A desire held even since sixth grade,
that I could actually be a student of such a college.
A letter fluttered it's way to my doorstep, an acceptance to such a place.
Dancing on air,
I'm delighted that such a wish could be granted.
My intangible dreams are still hazy,
but the fog is starting to lift,
and I take a stride closer to my dreams.

I shall become an artist,
your every truth defined.
Each perfect flaw,
each inch of movement painted on a canvas.
I shall become a photographer,
your every moment captured on my screen.
I will count every wonderful angle I can find,
your worst side made dazzling.
I will become a dancer,
and tell the story of your reality.
Each fleeting happiness or over pouring tear.
I will describe it in such a fondness through Jetés, leaps and Pirouettes that even sadness could only be mistaken for joy.
I shall become a poet,
who writes your every word,
lingering with an everlasting sympathy and beauty.
I shall spill my ink on the pages, telling of your sorrows and accomplishments.
I will immortalize you into everything you do, in every way I can. You will out live me in every masterpiece that you appear.
Be it a writer, photographer, dancer, or poet; you shall remain in all that you are.

'Awaken my creation'
A gentle whisper that resounds in a fog of dreams.
Slowly my heavy eyes open,
adjusting to the light.
Sitting in a chair I see another across from me.
'Is that Me?'
I wonder, unable to be sure.
Their eyes open too,
taking me in,
unsure what is reality.
Is this another dream?
"Who are you?"
Our voices call out in unison.
I stand up from this metal seat,
walking around the room.
"Where are we?"
Another voice joins mine.
"Where ..."
A nearby mirror confirms our fears.
"I am you."
"and I am you."
A body no longer human,
we are confined in suits of iron.
Our faces are comprised of nothing but a screen.
My eyes I sworn had open,
"Was that only an illusion?"
"Our memories?"
"Do we share them the same?"
Our past was one and the same,
copies of each other.
"Who is the original?"
Are we truly the same,
or one who became two new beings?
And what of humanity?
Who all is left,
our family,
our friends?
Are they out there,
do they exist,
or are they nothing but copies,
left to rot just above the ocean floor?