Am I dead, or am I alive,
Do I exist, or am I a dream,
Inside someone’s head for just a while

Where do I go, where do I flee,
I do not know, I do not feel

No answers given, only questions,
And through the unbearable longing this pain tortures

there are lots of questions that dont seem to have answers

i sometimes think

or answers too awful to endure

so i just let them drift off in the languid water

Shimmering forms fading away

Please don't get upset
when I tell you I've been drinking.
It's the only thing to do
that'll keep my mind from thinking
of the day we split apart
just as the sun had started sinking.
But I think I see it coming up, yet.

And please don't ask me how
I let the passion pass away
when you were always the only one
who could brighten up my day.
These kinds of questions have no answers.
Ain't there something else to say?
Just say it to me, here and now.

I know you think about me
when you lie awake in bed.
But you've got too much pride to call,
you just go to sleep instead.
And that's why when I see you now
it's lightly I must tread.
My whole wide world is hanging by a thread.

I strive to be the best lover I can be,
Not to say I am without faults,
Forgiveness flows through my blood,
Just don't take advantage of this.

Love blinds when it is true,
Over and over again,
Various personalities, lives collide,
Every wound from the ones before vanish.

Love that dies was never there, to begin with,
One has to wonder why it begins,
You can give your heart to one, or to thousands,
Although love is just a game of luck in the end,
Losing is not for those who cannot afford to play.

Perhaps there is some great unknown beyond what our simple eyes can reach for in the corners of clouds.
Perhaps when I look up at the sky I do not see blue, I see an expanse of quilted blanket painstakingly crafted by a woman of impossible beauty.
Perhaps we are all coats worn daily until our pockets don't hold loose change and our sleeves are tattered, and we are hung up for the last time.
Perhaps there is more to life than what is experienced in life and as the last breath of air flows lazily from our lungs the world pans out and it is so very small and delicate but special.
Perhaps we are here because we are so very insignificant and that is beautiful.
Perhaps the lake freezes over but life continues beneath the surface, thrives even.
Perhaps the moment of death, after the final breath, is a moment of understanding that could never be obtained in life because you finally understand that we are all just small beautiful people and nothing can change that, but the idea that we are so small is so very big because we think everything matters so very much but what we really need to understand is that a life is a letter in a never-ending fantasy series about how one little imperfection spawned a beautiful mess of hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and molecules and compounds that formed and bonded and created cells that created life.
Perhaps I am a rambling madman that knows nothing of the significance or insignificance of life.
Perhaps I have unheard insight into what may or may not be.
Perhaps we need to live and love and die as a people and not as a person.
Perhaps we need to feel every death as if it were our own.
Perhaps each one of us is united through sheer existence.
Perhaps.

Nobody Knows McQueen

Why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows,

why,
do you have to lose the sanity,
to find,
the genius,

nobody knows,

why,
do the brightest lights,
cast,
the darkest shadows,

nobody knows,

can’t have the beach,
without the ocean and the sand,
can’t have bliss,
without the pain,

what a paradox we are,
us this Human Species,
all us actors just acting sans practice,
in deafening silence commiting acts of violence peacefully,

in this repulsively attractive romantically tragic,
dramatic sci-fi thriller comedic fantasy,
where we rarely do what we say,
even though we all say what we mean,

constantly on a conquest to find Plato’s Atlantis,
expressing ourselves through our art like Alexander McQueen,
which makes sense in a way since we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go,
and even though that may be so we still wear our hearts on our sleeves,

half peasant have emperor,
have invented have inventor,
half daughter/son half mother/father,
half created have creator,

only hope is that this sadness somehow leads to a happily ever after,

once gone,
only that odor lingers,
is it cologne or perfume,
no one knows or cares it’s 2018 it doesn’t matter,

nothing matters,
even though it feels like everything does,
or maybe everything matters,
and nothing feels like it does,

I don’t know,
and I don’t know if I care,
don’t have the answers,
and if I did I probably wouldn’t share,

or maybe I would,
and I’d do so through these words,
like a man stranded on an island with a universe full of knowledge,
sending these messages in these bottles as my parting gift to this world,

see we’re all on our way,
so have some fun before you go,
is there life after death,
maybe not maybe so nobody knows,

why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows…

∆ LaLux ∆