I'm uploading My Dreams for Tonight.
When the Sun sets beyond the Sea.
Come forth, My Pretty Woman.
Wheresoever U may Be.
When I step into Light, next Morning.
I must feel your Warmth, on My Skin.
My Soul must brim with Happiness.
So there's a flutter in My Heart Within.
Life at times, can be a Monstrous Devil.
That may sail U on dying Streams.
Feelings are the Fabric to Our Souls,
I Fashion them out, with My Dreams.
Emotions are just like Wild Fires.
They have mystic powers to Destroy.
Sometimes they have the power to rebuild.
So U sleep, on a bed of Crimson Joy.

Happiness, a fragile, elusive wisp,
In the shadows of life, it often slips.
A distant memory of days long past,
A bitter reminder of dreams that couldn't last.

It's the echo of laughter in empty halls,
A fading photograph on crumbling walls.
Happiness, once vibrant, now a faded hue,
Lost in the maze of responsibilities we accrue.

It's the weight of burdens that never relent,
The scars of time, the love that's spent.
In the solitude of nights that seem so long,
Happiness, it seems, has gone so wrong.

It's the dreams deferred, the chances missed,
In the search for meaning, opportunities dismissed.
Happiness, a distant star in a dark abyss,
A longing, a yearning, a bittersweet reminisce.

So we chase it still, through the years we roam,
Hoping to find our way back home.
But adult happiness, it's a complex art,
A delicate balance, a fractured heart.

In the heart of my dream place,
where I'd always yearned to be,
there's an inexplicable melancholy
that wraps around me like a heavy shroud.

It's curious, you see,
how one can stand in the very midst of their dreams
and still feel so profoundly distant from happiness.

It's as though my emotions have been muted,
rendered numb
by the overwhelming weight of this place.

The vibrant colors of my aspirations seem dulled,
the laughter I'd imagined echoes
only faintly in the recesses of my mind.

Here, amidst the fulfillment of my desires,
a shadow lingers—
a persistent ache that refuses to be dispelled.

I thought I'd soar in this dreamland,
but instead, I find myself
tethered to the ground,
my spirit heavy with an unexplained sorrow.

Can’t control
What you can’t
See

Outside forces,
Coming after
Me

Inside, chaos
Multiplied by
disorder

It is what it is,
Another breakdown
in order.

Wake up and
Everything’s the
Same

Still wanting
Change

But the only
Change I see,

Are the scenarios
In my dreams.

It is what it is,
Another day,
Another dream.

I
Can’t control
What I can’t
See.

It is what it is,
I guess I’ll wait,
Patiently.

There are daffodils with butterflies,
fast-fluttering behind my eyes;
a chrysalis of hopes and dreams
maturing, and then taking wing.
Heather blooms, a hazy prize
of sun beams, and purple cries;
a weathered storm of little lies
I tell myself, to sleep at night.

it was, as it is
like before and after
I forgot and remembered
all these big, yet little things
that we call emotions.
which made up who we were
and the lost wishes we hold
as we spiral out
— of control.
I remembered, I did...
love you most

I’ve been remembering dreams lately. I don’t know why.
I dreamed I had a conversation with God, last night.

We’d finished moving into the university residential dorm - this dream was ripped, directly, from reality.

We (God and I) were on a bench in my residential courtyard, and she asked me what she’d gotten right - in creation.

My mind went blank, I mean, what do you say to THAT? But she was patient, like she had all the time in the world and finally, I came up with something.

“Porcelain tubs,” I said, watching her for a reaction, “beaches, kisses, oysters on the half-shell.” My voice goes all singy-songy when I’m nervous.

“Fashion,” I added, a moment later,  “At SOME point we’d have had to have clothes, ya?”

After a bit, she stood up and I knew she was leaving. “About that touching thing,” I started, hesitantly.

She fluttered her hand dismissively, “everyone does it.” She said as she faded away.

When I woke up, I was disappointed with myself. It seemed like such a softball interview.

There are so many mysteries she could have explained, like UFOs, bigfoot, republicans, why people say “heads-up” when they should say “duck” or if running away from my problems could, henceforth, be counted as exercise.

We wither like embers adrift the winds
With dreams set to depart eastward
Packed bags carrying rations, hopes
You sought to venture:
The beds of roses, bustling lands to scour
Enter the crowds' billowing cheers

In the city's grandeur, eyes glaring upon you
There at the centre, you stood:
Empty in mind.
Your flame roused.
A Silence that could sink you into a grave
Turbulence beneath the weight

Locking yourself into the burrows
We become pale peeking boarded windows
Counting passers-by like sheep
Conversing with them—only in mind
Have you become friendly to the Silence?

I share a dream on a warmer night
To know your docile embrace
And willingness to return
There’s only so much space in the dark

A vision or a memory...
You stood at the pavilion with broken thoughts
Still ready to quell your fears and set it ablaze
And rest yourself into the fissures

Will you miss the Silence when you leave?
I hope to see the flames in my slumber.