Thoughts Of Me, Sorry.

the dreams

My dreams lie here on the floor dormant, they are still, statues of the innocence, petrified from all torment, begging to break free from the hardened outer shell. Reality paused them in their tracks, a monument of treasure, the purity of the boy who stood in the mirror. And in that mirror I see a man, holding tears back and hiding his fear. To catch a grip, is to stumble down a rabbit hole, the tether keeping him from going to far, has finally snapped. I stumble and fall, gripping on to the roots, pulling the pieces of stability, down with me. This hole never ends and he's finally beginning to feel comfortable in the fall. Time now moves slow. The light above creeps away leaving me to darkness. And no longer do i feel helpless.
A hostage that no longer feels the great danger lurking beneath him.
When he hits. It will truly be the end. But just as fast as that he starts to see the light again. He's no longer falling, he's rising. The fear again kicks in. No longer wishing to see the bright sunshine light. Because there others can see his vulnerability. I open my eyes and see the green. The world is beneath my trembling hands and knees and someone has cut the noose. I look upward at the tall great oak. And there smiling is the devil holding a new riata. Underneath is a vast hole. The surrounding beauty all darkens just from the smile of his eyes. And something vaguely familiar arises from his face. Im no longer looking at the devil, I'm staring in the mirror. Closing my eyes I plead to go back into the fall. Where no one one, not even myself can see the quivers of my soul. The statues from before surround my feet shattered into peices. And I look back up and the mirror turns to a window. The fenestra opens to a meadow. Filled with millions of tiny indigo petals. I climb through this rancid reality. Plagued by the scraps of the dying world. And to the right. An oak tree. Old as old can be with a frayed rope hanging from its lowest branch. I wander close. And seem to forget the evil creature who was standing there once before. The one who looked to be me. I make my way towards the oak. Sifting through the blue sea. And it starts to get farther. I start to sprint to catch up with the grand scale of a tree. And I fall back into darkness. Back into the fading scale of solitude. The screams are muffled by the falling dirt. And all I can see is black and blue. The one way life tells you you've gone to far. You have hurt yourself more than you should. And theres no one to blame other than yourself. You are the cause of the hurting and you are the cause of your own misfortune.