selfish

I am

but
selfish
are you

you don't know me,
and you don't know you.

INTO SOMETHING

picked a flower,
a purple flower

(that magical air
with a certain sadness)

flower for you,
flower FOR YOU

(grasped tightly
as a stranger)

then I broke the screen

the hours

I'm sick of this elitism, this disconnect, this constant loneliness. I want some sort of ease. Sure, I feel bits of it from the sense of awareness, but no matter what I may see or feel, I can't stop this incessant longing for something more, something intangible. I sometimes taste freedom, but deep down, I am trapped. I want so badly to get out of my head, into some sort of ease. I want to be okay with the way we live.

a whisper

what's so wrong with that silence?
maybe, it was supposed to tell us something.
maybe, we weren't listening hard enough.

LUCID

I was walking down what was apparently the familiar street we all know so well. The one that usually has those huge, colorful cylinders of light...except for some reason, they weren't there. And the street was wider, unpaved. No cars were in sight. Nothing but a blue banner with words written in antique font hanging above a sea of people.

Some were skipping, dancing freely to the music, the melodies of the crowd's exclamations. Others ran around with open arms, hugging both loved ones and total strangers. It was straight out of one of those scenes you sometimes see in movies, the kind where everyone is reveling in victory and relief brought on by the war's end, where everyone is united in the present moment.

As I stood there smiling & absorbing the euphoria, it suddenly dawned on me: "This is a dream. I am dreaming." Without a single thought, I instantly knew what to do. SPREAD ARMS OUT. ROTATE FEET. LIFT UP. DOWN. REPEAT. Suddenly, I was flying. Over the sea and into the open sky. "This is a dream, but I'm not dreaming. This is real."

And I was flying.

"MAKING [it] COUNT"

the future?
the future is now.

look around, and you'll see.

please quit waiting for some magical day when
your life will "really begin."

it's already here.

waste

sometimes,
I turn on the faucet

just to hear
the water run.

compared with the heart

(please realize)

it happens

walking or working; laughing or listening,
sitting, sharing, singing, smiling

some days more than others, some less

but every night

every night as I lie here and stare at the ceiling--attempting to appease that little nuisance we unfortunately need to survive--
an image, words once said: a flash of thought & memory rushes in

(please realize)