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It's not like it will hurt.
Calm down.
Nothing will happen to the ones who run away,
We're safe
Because we're already looking the other way.

Keep going if you want to,
But where else would you go
When there's nowhere left to hide?
The truth is one thing,
But it's not ours
We escape down the drains,
Some say we're deranged,
If only they knew
It's what keeps us sane:
We run the hell away.
I read these notes
These lost essays
Bland manuscripts of indulgent prattle
I read and read til words blur
Become nonsensical
Strangely monotonous
Then stop myself from being lulled torpid by observing form
The shapely arc of stem
Ligatures defying the very ink printed with
Merging two letters like lovers
Imagining liquid tongues making languid use of diacriticals
Staccato tonal journeys as strange as the homelands I conjure within the cinema of my mind
Exotic women flaunting colour and poise
Men; stoic yet flexible, with eyes that smile as much as mouths do..
They move like raptors and
Then suddenly it's gone!
I'm back in this greyness
Back in this outer world
Reading and reading until words blur
Lost essays
Bland manuscripts
Becoming nonsensical
Strangely monotonous
I day dream. There! I said it! I'm the picture book person who tried to read to educate and just thinks of starlight and unicorns. Give me sci-fi any day.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
I plumped down sinking back first into the middle of the cushion.
Resting my arms behind my head.
Thoughts of spending the rest of my life here crossed my mind.
Now drifting off in thought.
I watched the sun drift off into the horizon.
Peering through half closed curtains. The inside of her eyes.
I always wondered what things looked like from here.
A beautiful thing, the clouds engulfed by one another.
Patiently laying there, feet spread apart. Wider than my shoulders.
The fear of drowning never crossed my mind, Sailing so far from I originally docked myself.
The closest I've ever came to setting sail before this moment was dangling my feet from the pier.
Hanging from the edge of her eyebrows.
By far one of the best memories happening before my eyes.
I loved how this felt. Surrounded in total comfort.
Embraced by nothing except cushion.
I sunk deep. My outer face cradled by cushion.
Watching the current of clouds ripple across the sky.
Snuggling my head deeper into the cushion.
Internalizing the thought of spending the rest of my life here.
Laying on the cushion of her heart.
Viewing the world through her eyes
Isabelle Jan 2017
-
•fig•ment : something made up or contrived
•re•al•i•ty : the quality or state of being real
-


*Dreaming while sleeping, and sometimes awake
Whimsical fancies fueling escape

Wishing is for the uncertainties
Collecting more than three from genies

Checking out my daily horoscope
Astrology might give me some hope

Calling out all the deities I know
Bending my knees, blessings they might bestow

The magic still holds expectations
Of this world its seen from all views

But the signs are unclear, faded
It doesn't feel useful when put to use

And I still await, alone
For something that may just come passing by

Or maybe in the form of an angel
Dancing with howling clouds across the sky
Collaboration with my friend, NB. I'm so happy with this one, thank you for accepting my request!
lei Dec 2016
i find myself
daydreaming about what my world would look like
if you were here with me.

i would've braved that rollercoater
at last summer's fair
because i knew i had the handle bars
and you
to hold onto.

i would've auditioned for that role
in the school play
because i knew that you'd be there
to cheer me on
even if my voice cracks.

i would've done so many things
knowing i'd have you
to be there while i face life.
Clindballe Dec 2016
I am daydreaming about making a difference in this corrupt, broken world but all I can do is to solve tasks that have already been answered. Second after second, year after year, I sit behind bricks in a ramshackle school where everyone are as prisoners in an alternative prison, where the years disappear in meaninglessness. Let me knock down walls and build them again, help the world instead of sitting as a product on a conveyor belt in the middle of a mass production of individuals that have solved the same tasks with the same answers, behind the same wall, at the same table, just to be able to put a way too expensive student cap on ones head and to call oneself a student. But what does it actually mean to be a student? Are you not just another number in the row, yet a grade point average, another helpless individual who can only solve problems where the answer already exists in a rule book. Let me knock down the world and build a new one, where mass production of students does not take place, but where anyone can build a future of new ideas and not only find errors on the old. But before I'm done daydreaming, tens of thousands of old assignments end op on the table, and I must sit on the chair a little longer as the conveyor belt keeps on going.
Written 30. October - 2016

Dansk version:

Jeg sidder og dagdrømmer om at gøre en forskel i denne korrupte, ødelagte verden men alt jeg kan gøre at løse opgaver som allerede er besvaret. Sekund efter sekund, år efter år sidder jeg bag mursten i en faldefærdig skole hvor alle er som fanger i et alternativt fængsel, hvor årene forsvinder i meningsløsheden. Lad mig vælte væggene og bygge dem om, hjælpe verden i stedet for at sidde som et produkt på et rullebånd midt i en masseproduktion af individer som har løst de samme opgaver med de samme svar bag den samme væg ved det samme bord på den samme stol, blot for at kunne sætte en alt for dyr hue på hovedet og kalde sig student. Men hvad betyder det egentligt at være student? Er man ikke bare endnu et tal rækken, endnu et karaktergennemsnit, endnu et hjælpeløst individ som kun kan løse opgaver hvor svaret allerede findes i en facitliste. Lad mig vælte verden og bygge en ny, hvor masseproduktion af stundenter ikke finder sted, men hvor alle kan bygge en fremtid af nye ideer, og ikke blot finde fejl på de gamle. Men inden jeg er færdig med at dagdrømme ender der titusinde gamle opgaver på bordet, og jeg må blive siddende i stolen lidt længere mens rullebåndet kører videre.
Jessica Roxana Dec 2016
in and out doors, i go
when the shadows show, i turn
stuck in an elevator, that keeps going up
let me out, bring it to a complete stop
the light seems to follow me
as i seek to find peace
crawling through the snow
rain falls upon my skin
here i go, here i will sleep
inspired by radio head's new song "daydreaming"
I can feel your hold on me
You grasping me so tight that;
I am too afraid to speak.
I submit to the thoughts of you,
Just you.
Because what else am I supposed to do?
You won't let go of me so neither of us are leaving.
Always I am repeating this
Except that you know deep down:
I never mean it.
She screams and cries
But there's nothing inside.
She won't find what she's looking for,
Because she says that she "just can't anymore".

Her eyes search the floor,
Just to keep her safe,
She wants to keep her distance far away.

She screams, she cries
The nostalgia is building inside.
The girl tries to convalesce from her saudade.

Sometimes she feels big,
But her presence is small.
She screams and cries
That she's burning inside

Only her imagination can put out the flame,
But this only reignites it all over again.

She screams, she cries
She's nothing inside.
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