Let us build a fort
and fill it with love.

Not everything written is perfect
Not everything said is truth
Not everything felt is emotion
Not everything lived is youth.

Close to catatonic
Until the mind is released.
Freed.
Fallen.
Failing is what others see.
Matters of such matters only
Matter to those involved.
And if those are only figments
Of an imagination gone ary
Then why, do they come alive?
Shots in the dark do not damage demons
who dance in retinas of ruthless souls.
Fallen.
Failing.
Freed from fallacies these demons dance
In shallow souls of mocking crows
And only know what is foretold.
Until the mind is released from
Its shallow sheep that shudder in sleep.
Dive.
Only depth will bury the beasts
Will bring them to their ***** knees
Drain them of their energies
Of drowning in such simple pools
Of petty thieves.

Metal, glass, glitter,

all shimmer, so sparkly!

What was I doing?

Half way down in the dumps
Nearly in the gutter inches from the footpath
If I wished to stretch my fingers
Maybe I could help myself.
Instead, I stay, a stray at the side of the road
Laying low from you, happy to be rid of me
To spend our nights alone.

The sleeping eye
sees nothing aside
from the sleepers dream.
It may be shut
for fear to wake
only to face
an assembled fate.
May we never know
as sleeping eyes cannot speak
but rest assured,
these sleeping eyes do very well weep.

Sun shines through shadows,
water gives way to the splash,
sharing summers smile.