It's Only A Dream To Me - Convincingly

last night i saw you in my dream, not your face
but it was still complete enough for me, what i saw
it was so vague, all i remember is hugging your body so tightly
and i never wanted to let go, from there on
if that moment lasted through eternity, i'd let it burn through me
everything i needed was right there, it was the opposite of lonely
but not in company, filled with excitement as i tucked into you
and you enveloped me, overlapped we would be

so today when i saw you i was surprised, shocked and in awe
i kept quite and stayed close to myself, you were always in sight
and i wanted to let the love gush, to tell a total stranger i love
i couldn't. and now i give up.

so i remain the basin who's draining
everything from the dead to the present -
serendipitous moments comparable to heaven

SUNDAY PSY101

i'm taking this psychology class, it's a basic 101. on the second day of class my professor described how if people thought about their own mortality on a constant basis it would most likely result in depression. people asking themselves "why bother getting up today? i'm going to eventually die anyway"

it made me realize i'm in a whole other boat, even if it's sinking at the same exact rate. one where i tend to believe the life granted to me is such a rarity even with death being certain. life is the greatest gift that could possibly be bestowed upon a soul. how am i here in this body, controlling what i do? i look at myself sometimes and i just say to myself "holy shit, i'm really here". it's not my impending death that scares me, it's the likelihood of life continuing on. i have the next 80 years to fill up and i get overwhelmed just thinking about it. it becomes an ongoing preoccupation where i can't decide what i want to do. it stifles me the same way it would the pessimistic pansy who tortures himself as he repeatedly harps on the unavoidable sorrows of death.

i have no idea what i'm going to do. ever. not in a million years.

A Figure Of Speech

once when i was a clever student of life i wrote the most splendid piece of poetry on how i was dependent upon your love. not much had changed in the months that followed since i produced it, and i pressed hard to overcome that little problem, but when no solution presented itself i did the only thing i knew how and gave up. but i didn't walk away with my head down, no, instead i bagged your love and sold it to my neighbor who promised to put it to good use. when he tried to talk me down i got nasty and told him i'd find another buyer. then he clamored something about the value of a buck and reluctantly bought it.

the son of a bitch then challenged me to a foot race, and without a moments hesitation i accepted. i stopped racing, but for all it's worth i think i would've won. after i dragged myself to the side of the road i sat down and waited. for what i'm not sure, but i was sad when it didn't show up. and in between all the waiting there was some longing. after hours passed i decided to start the walk home. when i arrived i went right to the couch and there i sat down. i retraced the events of the day for all the good and bad. all the love i harbored and i had sold yours. i made some coffee and sipped it slowly. i started to hum the melody of a song an old grade school teacher taught me and with that my eyes got heavy.

i died on that couch. that day. alone.
thinking about what i'd have to live without.

Legit Questions Before Noon

[LEGITIMATE QUESTIONS]

1. is it possible nowadays to use a pay phone and not look shady?

2. was that a cough or a sneeze?

3. why would anybody eat the bruises on a banana?

4. is it bad that when i look at my unopened extra playstation controller it makes me feel lonely?

run away, run away

i think about running away soon. i would cross state lines, go by a different name, and pick up solitaire. i wouldn't make any friends because i wouldn't talk to a soul. i'd resort to pick pocketing and black market sales in the beginning. i'd scour the streets with my head down looking for cigarette butts and complain about big brother and the welfare state. all my despair would reach the surface and start spilling over. i'd make it a point to get drunk everyday before noon, and if someone asked me how i was i'd snap back that i'm better than them. i'd triumph over the enslaved bourgeoisie with my self-reliant tendencies. i'd then find work as a store clerk and with that i'd rediscover the weekly paycheck. i would then take my earnings down to the closest theater and i'd see a movie. i would go alone and i'd be more than happy to do it.

i wouldn't wonder how i could feel so lonely, for once i'd know.

when i was re-released back into my old stomping grounds i'd notice everything was just as i had left it. and i'd slowly slink back to my old ways. several years later i'd struggle trying to recount the time i left life.