A far away image of my melodramatic fabrication.
A place I imagine arriving at
every hour
of every day
yet, can't screw up my courage to
'that sticking place' and make it happen.
At times it's so near, I fear if I grab it too hard
the shear strength with which I attempt to adhere
will steer it over the edge of a cliff
and down into my deep sea of somber tears.
Maybe if I just stay away,my imagination's figment, my faultless fragment of fiction,
will remain unchanged.
Is that all it can ever be?
Or is that all I'll ever allow it to be,waiting six-hundred and sixty miles away.
No. Fuck it. I'll go. I'll show my notions
that they are only that.
I'll set my mind on drive
and push my fears aside.
Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet.
The Latin beneath my skin reminds me not to fret.
If you get the chance to live in a fairytale,can you stay off in Never Never Land too long?
I guess a dream is only a dream for the short time it is allotted to be.
You either wake up or it turns into a nightmare.
It's always spoiled in one way or another...
But any sentence I start is one you complete,
never an interruption, just carrying the beat.
Are we condemned to take the backseat
and succumb to defeat
only to meet at God's feet
and say, "I wonder why we didn't try."
'Cause I'd wake up every morning
and read the paper across from you
just for an excuse to be in the same
room as you for as many minutes as I possibly can.
Isn't that enough?
Maybe it's too much.
My mind and my heart are out of touch.
Perhaps if they stay as such
the restless wandering eyes of my soul will never meet reality;
they may only ever be able to see
a soft sultry scintillating and unceasingly inaccessible fantasy.
