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•fig•ment : something made up or contrived
•re•al•i•ty : the quality or state of being real
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*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

who told you
you were not beautiful?

does that mean
not worthy of their time?

but anyway
they stated as such

if anything
their actions proved otherwise

but no matter
I’m trying not to mind

that I was never real
figment of imagination

whatever you cast me
I betrayed love

and cast heroes into new moons
beached jellyfish

I’m learning to gather bones
painting a canvas

instead of
reading newsprint

sculpture of messy clay
ultimate opus

good gold
honest trinket

bees’ honey
I recognize my self

ageless blue
flame

in all that is
ugly

small practice
sunburst navel design

Backs on the wall
With the sunset and all,

The silence that existed between the spaces among our knees
And each time that our eyes meet,
I shiver in fear knowing that...
This is just a "moment"
That I might never have you

And the moon appeared along with the city lights
And there I am, hoping...
To have our backs at the wall
To have that silence between the spaces among our knees...
Happen again
With the chance of our eyes meeting again,
But this time without the thought of fear of just a... "moment"

I don't want you to be just a figment of my imagination

A few nights ago I dreamt of the memories I have with you,
They were all dusted in snow and I was trying
to find the footsteps pressed within them that I could trace back to where we were.
I stayed lost in the land of the past until the sun began to rise
and melted each memory away
and lit the road back home.

Hello, goodbye. Whenever you want.
Love or die, that's all the options I've got.
A window is where I look through to
see what you do.
Daily, weekly, yearly, fondly do you do these busy things you do.
You come home late, say hello
Talk about your day, talk about your highs and lows.

And do I have to say?
Nothing. For I am your figment.

You ask me if I still do,
I say yes, holding forever in my heart.
But what impact does that hold to a busybody like you?

But without this past, you are hardly home.
In fact this is not your home anymore.
You only comeback when you can,
just because of pity
just because of regret
just so maybe you can still fix the little ebbing in my heart
to fix the reason why there still might be a ghost of me left somewhere.

And this I am,
You very special figment.

You say you still do,
in the most vague ways.
But I obviously don't stand a chance
to her ways that amaze.

She's real, I'm not.
I am forever your figment.