It's funny.
How your bed can be your best friend or your worst enemy
How it contains your worst nightmares and most splendid dreams
And how awful it is.
That people don't know how you feel
when you wake up and you still think the demons are real

Morning after morning I'm in fear when I wake
Trying to calm down fearing what it will take
and when I look back on what i did while I slept
I shake.

Because I cannot trust myself
While I am asleep.

Incognizant of the excrement,
I'm the dozing tenant of advertised adversity.
I ignore the fact that the world now is like a toilet,
And I avoid it, I avoid it, I avoid it.

Boy, did you get exploited?
How could we know we're
No more than numerical exponents?
Can consolation prizes console him?
We're not aware of the ventriloquists
Or their true motives.

Popular perfume conceals
The stench from the load of,
Finite excrement that
The suited men sold us.
They told us that it would be beneficial,
Not an imposition on our self-image,
Pinocchio before he found
Out he was artificial.
Is the American Dream a reality?
Why did I hear a dissenter
Say it was superficial?

We must have missed something,
We see no issues.
Meanwhile, my Uncle Sam designated
You as the mental missile.


Originally written 5/25/11
Revised 10/15/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith