Truth

after one week of lucid dreams
it seems im no closer to the realisation of what it means to be given everything
im just dfrifting like soft wood or wet grass underfoot touched by some
..or am i the one who has seeped into my own lungs that its come to this?

i cant breath and i cant sleep

i sit up with wide eyes like a cartoon in disguise; a character who shies away from their own personal life
i live a lie
i live a dry lie
bitter and pointless to the hidden eye in the centre of my palm
it protects me from all evil, defends me against all charms
this arm holds me down, and as i struggle it just deepens
i cant wake up now that i've finally begun to sleep again
and as i describe in dancing movements the pain of losing friends
i choke on my own inner pen leaking from my heart again
..and it burns
and i wait,
and i listen
..somethings coming
..something glistens

bury myself in this place hidden
if you saw my face you'd know i wasnt kidding
this is breathing
this is living
this is thoughts electronically driven

i cant write anymore
i can just dance with soft pattered fingers
leaving patterns like smoke rings so distant yet..
almost believably significant

see what i mean yet ?