If the water fountain in the desert; it does not matter
If the light to the black dark never; it does not matter
The happiest I be to the falling asleep
Is the match cut to reality
There is no scene my head can hide
That I need to see through the shuttered eye
How I hate to see any face I recognize
There is no word that need to be said from where am I
And through the busy incomplete
I hate to dream
I wish I’d never dream
But I still like to sleep
But from where comes such a time
Where the hallowed hollowed mind
Meets the faces from the clock
In an unknown living knot
And the sex that hides from me
Oh, how I hate to be asleep

I am a living organism like any other, tormented by memories
And the mountain I climb is all the tree people, all the green people
I feel absence in a full world, like the cup to the unlucky
I wish there would be peace again, and I could be a kid again, and I could walk around and not notice the Earth again
And the Earth would not notice me
And we would sleep together looking at a black and colored sky
But now I see the beauty in the meaningless
And the mind seems to run from itself, agonizing in its existence like a crippled weather
I guess there are things I can never give
Love is not enough
I can never be normal
I can never give the security of normalcy
I can never give them the green mind of the leaves when they’re kind to the Sun, like the beggar prays and a bird is a song
I can’t be beautiful, I can’t be wanted past the words
I can’t sit in the silence of the master of worms
Hungry am I of the fiddling flesh
I miss people who have never existed
The vacant spots of people I knew are already covered with the dirt of the land
There is no memory to remember, so I grow fond of possibilities
But there were times there were minds like mine and we were aligned by the shadows blowing bubbles in our eyes
And we cried and we cried
Maybe that is the worst death of all, the zombie type
How I wish I could show you I can be kind
But now I must sleep
Can I just close my eyes
And let them wake me up
From this bottomless disguise?

They run severed sincere hands
Through the bottom of the sky
They leave battered picket fences
Spill the corner of their eye

They knowed last this troubadour
In through the boring, neutered line
They conquest this over land
And over sand they swear and rhyme

They low not the nigh imposed
A night they sold their soul to mine
They learn nothing of the old
Not through true and not through lie

They vow past the morning pray
For their day that fades to last
They come calm and they come dazed
A sin to say there lays their best

But they won’t sleep in bed alone
They don’t know the dew to pine
For there’s a night that they will moan
The anthem’s planned leave lost in time

About the text: Some words about dreams I wrote while trying not to have a terrible nightmare.

new things coming next week!!

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