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the dreamlife of angels
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2004 he retraces each footprint as they scratch the surface of dissolved time
in this city of dreams
this city of crushed dreams and fallacious economic down spiraling
They say he can't have every dream come true or even most of them
but he only asks for one, and i don't think that's asking for too much
what do you dream of?
the dream of love and eternal peace
the dreamlife of angels
the dream of change
the dream of honey masque paradise
the dream of endlessly tumbling hand and hand with the one desirable creation through silky clouds thousands of miles above this earthly embodiment
hence reality is the helium balloon each child sinfully rejects into the sky to be forever lost
He really has no idea of what's real
each filled with fateful poisons of rejection and hatred
it is here on the edge of his lips
please take your sip slowly for you haven't a lifetime to fade
to take what is offered is anorexia at its best
for even if it will causes him a thousand deaths
to soar a thousand miles through a thousand lifetimes
an arrow for each
pierced through a thousand souls
each one like him yet none are who he is
the faceless man that is a detached part of who he really claims
a mirror serves to only show exactly who he is not
it is a reflection of the distorted images meshed into an intricate web of deception that the world takes for truth
where lies smell like the boy next doors
where lips do move
He parts his lips and inhales deeply of the lies making them a part of himself, or him a part of them
words are insufficient in the entrapment of the dreamlife
they are suffocated beneath a thick layer of procrastination
words are less than meaningless,
trash that clutters the world until no one can even see the entanglement of lies that obscure that grain of truth
this is love, utopia is the end of dreams
the land of emptiness
if such a thing is true what is one to look forward to the outstretched arms of tomorrow
are these arms torched with gasoline and spiraled thorns
the journey to the dream is happiness, the finding of the dream is the end of all
each eye queerly rolls in an abnormal pattern
contemplating the purpose of each dying minute
that serves as an unequivocal representation of what was never meant to be
and that which will never come to pass
for fate has the greatest of interventions
