I try to wake up, but I can't. It deems impossible to resist the temptation of lying in bed forever, with nothing to fear and nothing to want. If only we could get that while we're awake… the desire to dream wouldn't be so addictive.

I turned off my reasons, my ration, and my mind

Unaware of the things that my tongue might say

That red slimy bastard told all my secrets

A mix tape of nonsense I'd stashed away

My eyes shifted from one void to the next, interrogating suspects, doubting their silence, questioning their spines. Pleading for mercy and living for revenge for an act undone, I stare at the ceiling. The spider webs casted across the corners of the walls, seductively inviting, and begging me to fall. Frozen yet I am; unable to scoot.

My RBCs absorb the rising smoke and burn. Those brave little soldiers amidst the flames. I mourn their ashes and search for reasons, but alas, in vain they are gone. I build a memorial that speaks in my brain. All they do is hush me off the grid of conversation. I drowned myself in a pool of shame and listened to the deafening call of the sea pressuring against my ears, welcoming me home, reading me my prayers. Deep into the abyss I gravitate; deep enough for my Fossil watch to break. A watch designed to resist 50 m of depth, but not more; if more is faced then I've probably sunk and drowned.

I push myself off my bed of secrets and fall and hit the abysmal ground. Bottomless and uncanny, it marks my presence with whitish chalk. Guilty yet I am of the dreams I have dreamt, I sentence my darkest of matters to eternal captivity in a bar-less cage of vague and controversy.

A magnetic impulse of unwind clocks
A shattered glass eye, I wouldn't mind
I'll sketch conversation clouds, they're empty still
Such foolish things I did for perfection, for pride
I'll even draw trees and rainbows and smiles
I'll draw hope and salvation and such things you can't get
A ninja, a dragon, and a boy who could fly
Zzzz, said the cartoonist that slept

I write her name on toilet paper and flush her down the drain with the rest of my wastes. A seven digit number that connects to nowhere. I set the automated redial techno and wait for a hope that never ever picks up.

I'll cast off my very own endless stream of light
And wonder how maybe things just might

I am still what I am… spineless, lost, and favored over all.

My ultimate adversary… I hate you.

Labels: Off Key