A World of My Own

From our wooden world, I hear the bell that signals your entry. My head turns towards the green sky as I watch your dark, winking stars come closer and closer until they crash right next to me with a sigh. You grin because you escape wandering the universe for a while. I grin just because you don't know. This is the world we've created, a wholly magical place where smiles breathe laughter into the atmosphere to mix with the smell of coffee. It's as blissful as if sin and no more than the gentlest of grief had ever been. It's a place of dreams.

Hope and Absurdity

It was as absurd as to expecta beauty to search for his likeness on the back of a mirror. At least, I thought it was. On the 5th, however, you said a single line that gave me hope. "Age doesn't really matter," you said, "It only maters the experiences you've had." It was a small line, but enough to make me high on the words.

Fucking room (NOT fucking room)

I'm in a sterile room
With no inspiration or doors
I'm in a fucking room
With fucking knowledge whores
They scribble their equations
A pointless treasure hunt
Then they turn the pages
From the backside to the front
I'm in a sterile room
With blank papers and faces
I'm in a fucking room
With fucking basket cases