I can never forget some dreams I had as a child, but it seem now adays, those things are fleeting. What I see when I dream fades quickly, and I usually only have fragments left. Those fragments can overwhelm my thoughts, and take center stage from dawn to dusk. Sometimes it is a funny feeling left over and I find myself sniggering even when I'm not really sure why. Other times it is a rememberence of a nightmare and the feeling of dread that swallows my day.

When I dream, it is in color for the fun, happy things, but for the nightmares and sad dreams, I get to stay in a Sepia color tone. That makes it all the more entertaining or all the more unpleasant. But even now, it is only the scraps of dreams left over that I get to glimpse. There are times when I wake up and I know it was a really good dream and I just want to close my eyes and re-enter that special trance called sleep. Alas, it is never to be. Why can't you recapture those moments?

I pray and wish for dreams to fill my life once again, in my sleep, my daytime, and my nightime. I want to be able to have the creativtiy of my childhood and the utter innocence that time has stolen from me. Let those dreams, the good and the bad, come once again and fill my head, so that I might start each day with more than fragments to sustain me.

What do you mean when you say I don't love you?

How can you belive that I don't care?

What must I do to make you understand that my every breath is in your hands.

My blood beats for a just a single whispered word.

When I go to work everyday or when I try my best to cook dinner for two;

these things I do to show my reguard for you.

Don't turn away!

Understand that though I don't often say the words, everyday I call you my heart.

I know that look in your eye, and it says that I'm in your heart too.

So please, listen to not only what I say, but to the maeaning behind the words.

It seems like only an endearment, but it is so much more.

You are my heart, and yes, I most certaintly love you.

They say i'm Crazy, but that is just not true. So what if i get Distracted by the man in the moon, he's super sweet and loves a good cheesy joke.

The doctors tell me that those voices i hear are not really there, that it's just an imbalance in my brain. The only times i become Disterbed is when they all try to talk at once; when 9 people try to chat me up a the same time, it definately gets confusing.

My mom wants me to get some help, and my dad thinks medication is a cure all. i don't need a pill or shot just because I become a little Unstable and try to fly (it was only a two story house). I only need one more chance, and little more of the fairy dust.

My friends keep watch over me and tell me to think of the good things, to stay positive. Who cares that i become Unhinged and Maniacle when i know someone defiled my food; look at it, i would never let my food touch, never.

i know i'm not a Lunatic, but let me tell you tell you, white is definately my color, and when you get to put on these jackets, you give yourself a hug all day long.

So though i am most definitely not Cuckoo, Mental, Deranged, Bonkers, or of Unsound Mind, i Am beginning to doubt how sane everyone else is.

i think they need a hugging jacket too, because they believe that you only see rainbows on rainy days.

Are they blind? i see them allday, everyday, and they are beautiful.

Really? Yes

Wearing that? Maybe not

Underwear? Dry

With who? (Silence)

You didn't! I did

Without me? Sorry

Should I? No

That bad? Uh-uh

Why? My mother

The constant flow of data

In and out of our lives

It never seems to stop

Just an endless stream of lights and noises

It seems to be dynamic

In that it is always changing

How much really changes is hard to understand

As every plot twist and turn has already been written

Night or day, unceasing

We try to turn it off

A good eight hours is what they say

Just one more; dawn appoaches

All the hours spent

The passage of time lost in a haze

We call it binge watching

It really is just us wasting away

The seconds of our live are being absconded

We forget that it is all fleeting

To caught up in evasion

We use our screens to run away

Running from our past

Running from our present

Running from our future

We'll just keep running on streaming services

Who cares?

Just knowing that there is nobody on your side

No one to confide in or to take comfort from

When that thought crosses your mind, hope is lost

Who cares?

You have certaintly given up

Why try when nobody cares

This is the time when dark ideas will pop into your head

Who cares?

You cannot survive alone on an island for forever

There must be at least a pinprick of light to reach for

So look hard and long and try your best

Or don't ever ask the question

Who cares?

Until we understand that the color of our soul means more than the color of our skin, we will always be in a world filled with pain. This universe is filled with such an array of wonderous things, and yet we, as a people, cannot understand that uniqueness is an asset not a hinderance. Even if we were all blind, or deaf, or mute, people would still find a way to segregate. The loss of understanding is what kills us all today. If only we could truly walk a mile in someone else's shoes, as the saying goes, we might see, hear, and speak from the place where it is about empathy not indifference.

It seems that we are all just waiting for the end. For the stupidity of this human race to wipe itself out, and evolution to be given another chance at getting it right. What else but being suicidal would account for the fact that we elect hate, corruption, and greed to lead us. Why would we allow for our fellow brothers and sisters to face starvation and dehydration. The value of material wealth still obscurs the fact that we are killing our world and us with it. The loss of our water, our air, and our safety mean nothing in comparison to the desire for more; more cars, houses, and power, indifferent at the cost.

There is ambition to go out in a blaze of fire,and maybe that is why some believe hell to filled with flames. We are creating a self-fulfilled proficy and soon it will be too late to change the course being set by us. How much time left, and even if there is enought time, where to even begin? Combat the discrimination, show love and kindness. This is what should be taught to the children. To smile in the face of hate and forgive is a challenge that probably won't be passed by today's human race. Cry out loud and long, weep for the lost opportunities, and rage at the injustice and indifferance all around. There will be peace one day, but probably no people to enjoy it. Rejoice that soon enough there will be nothing but the crackling sound from the blaze ignited and then silence, finally.

You’d be suprised how far you can get from your own thoughts and feelings. I use anything and everthing to ignore the shouts from within. I use books to escape to a world were I get to imagine the words coming to life around me. I use tv to get lost in a creation already prepared, and I use the internet to look up useless information, vidoes, and entertainment gossip. All to stop my brain from overloading and getting stuck on repeat, repeat, repeat...

I escape from this reality to one made up; for me or by me. When it is late at night and I can no longer use my normal means of mental disappearance, I lay in bed, turn the radio up high and sing along till sleep drags me under. I’ve made it a lifetime by suppression, denial, and go old fashioned stubborness. As much as I believe in forgiveness, there are things that I’ll never forget, so I’ll bottle it all up and run as fast as I can to my imaginary happy place.

What's this I'm feeling?

This mishmash of feelings that lead me round and round in circles.

This uncertainty that never ceases.

Where did all this confusion come from?

What's this I'm feeling?

This topsy turvy worldwind that blows me up, down, left, right.

This mania that has me craving the most outrageous things.

Where did all this pride come from?

What's this I'm feeling?

This coalescence of all the good things I've ever had.

This joyus song that seems to spring from my lungs.

Where did all this jubilance come from?

What's this I'm feeling?

This bitter taste in my mouth from words yet to be said.

This long drawnout cry of passionate fury.

Where did all this rage come from?

What's this I'm feeling?

My brain about to expload, these feelings being fused together.

The only way to express; start with the crazy eyes and end with straight-jacket.

I can hear it now, "cuckoo, cuckoo."

I want to scream, to be loud and shout.

I want to cause a rucus and a hullabaloo.

No can do, I was raised to hold it all back.

I want to cry, to weep and moan.

I want to rip my clothes and wail for all that has been lost.

But no, I want no attention drawn to myself.

So all that is in my head, will stay in my head.

I will exist in Silence.