thinking dreams may come alive.
that was the mistake i made.
i never accepted what life was as it is.
but invented one as my own.
treading softly so no one would hear.
a somniambulent soul who knows no path
world sleeps on as time goes by.
i stand , i watch , and laugh at the irony of life.
shaken, stricken, driven by insanity
rising , falling with no road in sight
the only thing that moves like a broken record in my mind
is the thought of cutting a blade grass with a knife
the brook murmurs, draining life of its color.
painting the color of dark in the tip of me.
covering the vision of the mocking seer, the blue black veil.
still laughing at life's irony am I.
ah still one more problem isnt there?
the vision blurs slowly
slowly
and fades away.
only the distant echo of the riotious jeer echos on and on.
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