"Two Worlds"

Two worlds there are
       we've slid
       into this one
       unawares

       imaginated universe
       and
       percepted universe

       one coin
       dream side up

"This Magic Hat"

This magic hat, a crown of thorns sometimes
Hard pressed and poignant, we blessedly wear
Till death recumbent stills the joys the care
The strivings found in all sentient forms.
We walk upon this globe each day without
Wonder nor concernment for monolith
Thoughts arisen, seemingly threaded with
Threads still hidden though faithfully throughout
History named and imagined. The full
Ever-vescent multitude, a flash, the
Portion illumined, then grasped as all in all.
This cause repeats repeatedly, a breath
Of mind cognate and fleeting that does swell
Our conscious state to mortal width and breadth.

before i fell in love with her, love didn’t seem real
it was a facade, it was what people were supposed to do
i had never felt anything close to what was described as love
so therefore, in my head, it wasn’t real

and now i look back and remember how absolutely stunning the feeling was
how it crawled under my skin, from the very outer layer of the skin on my fingertips to the deepest crevices of my chest
it was, all consuming
tidal
the realest thing i’d ever felt

it’s been a while since that feeling ravaged my life
and it feels so far away now

the distance there creates this separation for me

it didn’t happen
i barely remember how it felt it must not have happened
i don’t miss her anymore, was any of it real?

but when i sit with myself.
when i sit with myself and wish to feel the same as i did last spring
wish to feel an innocence i did not know i had before

i find my soul has moved slightly to the left

and though her memory no longer lingers in my mind quite as often i feel as though,
I may never feel aligned again.

The soft way to say this:

I crack the bones in my left hand
One by one, a steady beat
The tension between my fingers echoes
On and on, a steady beat

I weave wildflowers into a flowercrown
One by one, a strange pattern
The dead flowers continue to grow somehow
On and on, a strange pattern

I place feathers around my heart
One by one, a steady sound
I cannot dull its beating whatever I try
On and on, a steady sound

The honest way to say this:

Some days I want to feel every part of my body
I stretch muscles and skin, feel for my bones
One by one, a strange need to be real
Some days I want to be made out of sunlight
And wind and earth and soft sounds and
On and on, a strange need to be not real

What is considered real in our world?
People have so many different beliefs
Some things are real to some people
And merely a myth to others
So what is real?
Is god real?
Is science real?
Are you real?
Am I real?

The truth is
“Real”
Is only what we believe to be real
What we feel
What we see
What we hear
And most importantly
What we think

So
Is “real”
Real?

Why can't unicorns be real
Why do parents play make-believe
So happy we were as children
Until a rusted locke was uncovered
Slowly anything from our stories we read
Never took us to our fanatasies ever again
now where did our one horned friends go
they were thrown down a bottomless pit
Since our minds would never again accept them as real
to this day it level us in sadness unbroken

You, fairytale princess,
Who looks out my mirror
Chocolate eyes, pert nose
And lips drawn in a bow.
I don’t think you
Are at all real
But I’ll sit and stare

Another day, another moment passed,
It feels like time has taken away the connection between me and everyone else,
I feel what it’s like to be disconnected from those closest to you and distance from those I never once doubted to be next to me for the worst of times.
I have no one to call when trouble starts,
I lost the closest people to me, due to my pride and self worth,
Giving up those who were deemed trustworthy because I actually thought, contemplated and realized that loving myself is all that’s worth.
Told myself never again,
Reaching out to the voices in my head,
Everything is just scrambled now,
Situations and certain things can grow to ruins in a matter of a couple seconds.
Time has effortlessly proved to me the true colors that reside underneath the personalities of people, associates,
Even family members, those never underestimated can still indicate actions of opposition,
I was shown that at a young age and even now; a connection, yet a reflection.

If you constantly struggle
just to stay even,
yet can never get ahead;
its hard not to keep a feeling of dread.