The Past Looks Better The Further You Are From It

i woke up uninhibited by all the bad i have walked past. and it's the same angel i dream of that summons me in the early morning daze. she softly speaks to me about her needs, and why mine are to be dismissed. she reminds me that i rely on her, it comes off kind of her even though she's belittling my desires. she does so though in the most romantic of ways, a gesture that feels like a caress. her words rub my back and they place my hand in hers. comfort that grows exponentially, and my head soon sides with the rest of me. she warns, the backdrop of my life has come out of necessity, thus leaving me empty. the routines that i've adopted we're chosen while i was backed into a corner, mediocrity swarming. my angel tells me draw the curtains, allow the outside to prey upon your every inch, stay in line with the scorching sun and let the heat expand your views and belief. then suddenly she looks around her and her graceful voice rises an octave all filled with promise.  plump and risen her words come out and as they do they're written across all the walls in the room, god told her i can see without my eyes, just take off the disguise, the memories are lies. a thousand other peacekeeping sentences came out along with those, and i race to keep them all close. and what she had spoke was set to be my bible, walking stick, and outlet. no doubt, i just woke up.