Wishes. Dreams. A frog prince; a serpant’s kiss -
How do we know that the dreams we hope to taste aren’t
poison blood flowing in our veins,
waiting to explode inside this universe of calm...
How do we know if all we ever do is let the sane ones fly by
and grab hold of insane illusion
hoping to find our reality there...
How do I know I’m actually alive or am I losing my mind.
Oblivion. Ecstacy. Deep ravines:
I find corridors of pain and confusion, envy and hope and all the things I
want, need, hate, love and seek - and even wish to destroy...
All just a game; racing, flashing through my mind’s eye, blurry pic’s of nothingness
that mean more than all those thousand worded images
of delusional lunacy;
Who am I to mock delusion;
Why, I am delusion personified!
Going nowhere with this crazy raving about my content and respectable existence.
‘Short-lived Life’
What is that gonna help?
Now if wishes were truly wishes...
maybe I’d be me.
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