merely breadcrums of cognitions produced during *realities open ended coma

a world full of never ending twisted visions, imagine, imaginations experience constant states of nonexistence.
would letters rejoice with one another,
would they celebrate the specifics of the meanings re veiled by their gatherings?
or would each become a victim? could each have a new home, found sixfeet deep, causing the destruction or any bit of lingering sanity left lurking..
would colors be conceivable? would delusions actually delude, if no trace of reality or its oppisite was remaining to place firmly in ones grasp?

Dear spotlight,
i must have died upon meeting
you, that night,
surely, lost my ways when you
befriended me,
your chanels led me to the
nothing i have turned into
and the funs you gave me,
cheered me to sixfeet under
the expensive cars i drove in,
the funcy colours you dressed me,
the bigger picture you made of
me,
made me believe heaven was down
here on earth
the king you made me,all the
greener pastures you fed me
kept me far from the exit door,

Dear spotlight,
you gave me fame, riches and
power,
made me forget my innocent self,
you got me hanging on the
eleventh hour,
contemplating on how i would love
to jump out,
out of the main stream and
continue to daydream
in your arms, i found my strength,
in my strength, i found my pride,
in my pride, i lost my way,
i lost my soul, then i lost my wife,
but before i lose my life,
i want out!
out of the main stream
and continue to daydream

fighting for Poetry with insanity
Who is the greatest poet? under sixfeet deep of sand pulled by gravity?
Mark each day on hellopoetry
unknown people with great ideas are hated
******!!
Poetry is not about hatred
or is it?