GLASS DREAMS
I look upon my dreams,
And I cannot reach them.
My head, a glass veil,
Wrapping around them
So that try as I might,
I cannot get within.
But they are a vile filth,
Taunting my head,
Like alcohol,
They make me drunk beyond reason.
I cannot see that it is their doing,
Teasing me to no end,
Subtle little hints here and there,
Leaving me wanting more…
More than I can have,
And more than I can bare.
And yet I ask for a refill,
so the bottle of my soul might be filled,
My quench for vain desires extinguished.
And yet I wake up in the morning,
The word “hangover” sketched upon the glass,
And my dreams are now wasted,
A puddle of nothingness,
Sitting there…
Unmoving,
Untouchable,
And mocking.
This is how my life unfolds,
A tattered cloth that can’t be mended.
Never shall I be sober again.
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A collection of stuff of mine... anything I feel like writing about, but mostly poems, my drawings, and part of my story.
Like what you like. Cause I mean, if you don't like what you like then you're not really liking. So if you like Barry Manilow that's great. But if you like smack metal puppets or air supply then hell, the power's all yours. As long as you own it, got me?
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