I find it ironic how most dystopian novels are about a utopia
A world created to be perfect because ours failed
A world full of control, uniformity, perfection, no reflection
No identity, no war, no lust, maybe lust. Maybe just lust.
Broken, failed, oh how this brave new world derailed
It's a mishap, a hit and a miss, a world full of "ignorance is bliss"
Hidden from the view,
Or maybe just hidden from you
Oh yes it's quite ironic how the perfect world is ours,
Which we find so imperfect as we stare up at the stars
And wish for a world that we could just be one
Because everyone belongs to everyone

In my perfect little world, people greet,
they kiss and hug each time they meet .
There are no tears nor fears
and everyones okay with queers.

But in the world today, we just don’t care,
and showing love is somewhat rare.
When times are fun all friends are near,
then things get tough most of them disappear.

In my perfect little world, we give and share;
we make it a point, to show we care.
We live to love, and love to live,
and find it easy to forgive.

But in the world today we strive on greed,
and crave the things we rarely need.
We step on others to get our way,
so were let alone to pay.

In my perfect little world, children smile,
and parents go that extra mile.
No child is ever harmed or hurt,
abused or treated just like dirt.

But in the world today most people cry
and only pray in case they die.
We’ve given in to all that’s bad,
and then complain that life is sad

In my perfect little world were all the same
and life is not a spiteful game.
People are loyal, honest and just,
and value the gift of friendship and trust.

But in the world today it seems,
we’ve lost all hope or goals and dreams.
Malicious acts are seen as witty,
I think it’s sad and such a pity.

Sometimes I wish to lead another life
Alive in a world without strife
If I do then whats the worth
Is there a point in a mother giving birth
No troubles or pain
No one clinically insane
No tears for a frown
No bully to tear you down
No reason for suicide
Its easy to just abide
No discrimination against anyone
No reason to make fun
No reason not to love
No hard feelings against he from above
No fear of losing your life
Only a perfect world without strife
But without pain there is no joy
No happiness in a little boy
No one to blame for your falls
No reason to live at all
No way perfection is for me
I love my life now; leave me be

I dream of a life living in hell. It's insane I know, but I love picturing myself in bruises and more scars than I already have. I fantasize of someone kicking me in the face, mutilating myself and drugging every last inch of my brain with more memories that can stimulate my being traumatized. Everyone dreams of a happy, non-problematic life, truth be told I do too, but there are just moments were I picture a person smothered in pity and suicide.
I take hours driving into nowhere. I leave at dawn or in the middle of the night and have long conversations with a lover who craves for lust as much as I do. But it will always be her or maybe him and I. Just the two of us, driving towards utopia but mistaking the roads and ending up in an opposite world.
I dream of having *** that will make me feel alive. On the road, in the middle of nowhere, abandoned houses, motels, bathroom stalls and bedrooms that smell of old newspapers and cardboards. My partner scratching me as I bleed. I dream of a him and a her, a ****** up version of me, filled with tattoos and scars, who drown themselves in ***** and cigarettes, and someone who thinks just as I do. They choke me with words, and penetrations. Maybe fingers and wet lips. I always give in, and they are always in control.
I dream of crying on their necks or shoulders, releasing my anger and all the heat into their kisses and lust. I dream of him or her, finding me, a little too late, in a bathtub filled with a lifeless and breathless body. And they will mourn over me and join me later on, on the journey.

It's sick of me, for someone to think this way, maybe I'm just too ****** up, maybe I need help, but I guess these are my horrible fantasies, of a tragic life I crave for. A world where no one cares and thinks about me except maybe for that person. A world where I dream of killing myself and breathing in drugs to help me forget about the perfect life I am in.

But that world does not exist. I live in this one where I am me. I have scars, I smoke, I eat, I breathe, I talk, I laugh, I'm happy and alive. That world is just another one of my desires and fantasies. Another definition of the word "living"

n.j.

You know that utopia where everything is perfect?
No pain, suffering, and no death.
This utopia I speak of isn't a physical place.
It's our love.
The way it will live on forever if it's true.
The way it will make you feel,
Never being angry or unhappy wile you're with them.
Always smiling,
Always thinking of them,
And putting them in front of yourself;
That is true love in the simplest form
It doesn't have to be romantic
It could just be a friendship.
Surround yourself by love
You'll be happy for the rest of your life
No matter how rich, poor, or even sick you are
love will help.

I watch the water tumble into my class, swirling and rocking
You're speaking but I can't understand a word that's coming out
Like wind on a beach, their meanings are lost
I'm drowning with every syllable
like the waves you made in my glass of water.