i am pillars of saltshakers for flimsy arms
to give a last salute to my army of ants,
and i step on their heads on the way to my
chair of golden hairs from the head
of an unassuming mistress, the light of my
lions and fire of my letters

they say envy is a toboggan ride to success.
my mother cradled me in pasty poverty,
do you hate someone for filling your heads with
surrealisms and lion-headed daisies?

i was destined for better than You and you and
you and you but i get worse than everyone
i am the monster of want and you are just afraid

wish i knew you
way back then
but again then
you wouldn’t have
glanced at me once,
let alone twice

but them ole aphorisms
have their uses,
useful when dreaming
in colorful surrealisms

better later,
than not at all,
my sad eyed lady
of the highlands,
better for having
met you,
than not
at all...

Lately?
Lately I've been walking a tightrope
Torn between what I should and what I can
I like the suspension,
Postponing my decision.
It’s a nice way to stall.
But I know eventually I'll fall,

Lately, I've been falling I'm love with you
And falling out of it
Then in again
Then out
Bargaining with my own heart
And begging my mind to start,
Forgetting you.
But my organs don't listen to me anymore
Not since I rung the ink out of my lungs
And dried out my skin to paper
So I could write your name seven hundred names over
Until the manoeuvre was as automatic as a blink
And I think,
I’m almost there.

Lately I've been confused.
About reality
About dreams
And that fine line between
Where one stops does the other start?
Are there shades of gray between, the white of your mind and the black of the real?
Or is there a gap
A pause
Before you switch from one to the other
Where you replay your surrealisms and start to dread the god-awful monotony that will soon come
Because it WILL come
It will.

Lately I've been rehearsing my epitome;
She withdrew (or)
a creator (or)
The world's greatest admirer of you.

Lately I've been acquiring addictions;
A series of self-inflicted afflictions
The smoke burns my Esophagus.
I’ve just about had enough of this.

You ask me what I’ve been up to, lately,
And my mind immediately begins debating,
Against itself, against all of me,
Whether or not to tell you everything.
To confide in you,
The darkness in me.
Or lie to you,
Like I always do.
But the moment passes quickly,
And I swallow rather thickly,
Before I open my mouth to speak,
And with my heart growing weak.
I say;
“I haven’t been doing much.”

in surrealisms  or reality
whether drunk ****** sober tripping out
grounded or high
addicted we all are