Not a fantasy.
It's reality.
Is it really
as we think it to be?
To me, what I see
and perceive,
isn't enough to
make me believe,
there's somethin' else
that's happening.
In my own world.
My own everything.
It's my own fantasy,
in my reality.

its cold outside and i can't sleep because of you
keep me addicted to my phone, lonely but not alone
its 2am for me, because of these **** timezones
letters against a bright screen, squint my eyes against the light
my eyes are burning, i think im slowly going blind
hopeful messages promising to one day meet up
slip that engagement ring onto your finger, a binding promise
to find you, see you, kiss you, hold you in my arms, in person


not knowing if the other is perfect

~risking ruining your perception of me

because here behind my screen you think i'm everything

~but im bound to disappoint you like i always do

i want to marry someone ive never met

~is this something i'm going to regret?

in time
the lens
turns large and flexes
small
and the colors of hands
the shapes of days
stains
the wallowing stream
the hanging chord
for god is change is time
is infinite is ends
is frozen is stagnation
is a self
a sculpture in ice
glittering melting
a tale the same
in every telling
till
gone.

My eyes are forever ruined. I see too much, and what I see melts every gold and silver I have embedded in me.
I seem to know too much, but never too much to expand beyond limitations.
Limitations of what the mind can see.
I suffer, a heart of pure diamond, moulded into what others have made me.

I see intentions, crowds of people, lies, pain, truth...
But this gift means nothing to me anymore.
The healing I carry with myself.
I am not heard and listened to.
I feel misunderstood.

What can you do when you have it all?
But something is missing...
I’m smart, intelligent and driven.
Back at school as an adult to complete something important to push myself for further opportunities.
I push myself too hard and suffer defeat when I face failure.

Failure is my only fear.
It’s scary... knowing that without self discipline, where am I to be?

Please stop loving me, I am too sensitive.
Evil, personified.
I am torn, disappointed, disgusted...

Love serves me no purpose anymore.
Buried so deep inside of me is longing and confusion.
Wanting what I can no longer have.
I push away those who do

Too picky?
Too cold, detached from it all.

I want you, only you.
I still think about you.

But I may be wrong, for I have wronged myself into thinking that I will ever see you again.

Yolan.

Broken imagery....
I was so wrong
Darling clairvoyant, please stop ruining me

The polder is green,

nothing but grass, grass hides grass,


hides ditches and roads.

I see myself everywhere
and the world I perceive revolves around me
not because I'm narcissist
but because my existence is my entire world
I'm everything I have