Dreaming

Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming

I live and keep on dreaming, aware of the tears that have stopped streaming from my eyes. I barely recognize what I used to call my mind.

Half forgotten, half rotten, dumbfounded ridiculing myself in every direction, falling into holes crafted by my own design.

A self destructive ingenuity, one of a kind.

So the dreaming keeps me alive.

I can't shine, at least haven't done so for a while. This makes me sad. Feelings of anger, disappointment, self hatred, unrested and battered down. What willpower drove me forward, used, discarded I feel so tired of maintaining it alive. Used to strive for greatness, ignoring the voices that chased me through my teenage years, hurting, causing pain resurface now that I'm 28. I'm probably going insane.

A dose of medicine is required. Some sort of having me rewired is a thought I think about a lot.

Most of the time, day by day, my abused brain cannot refrain from torturing with disdain my actions, feelings, hearings, beliefs and all kind of griefs not just at my own, but those around me with no place to call home.

All alone, plain white canvasses fuelled by infinite chances, hypnotised by fun dances coming in the form of eloquent words which transform our young minds from white to bags of emotional garbage, factual carnage, scarred damage, neglected friends destined to survive not understanding the world they're about to bare.

Stains appear on once innocent faces, replaced by masks shown in public places, breaking into a million pieces once no one pretends to care.

So hear this message, typed on a lonely Christmas Monday, burning green trees everywhere catching snow blowing high up in the air.