Trying to teach my thoughts to fly in formation
They are off on their own path, recreation.
My dreams are flittering around,
Some flapping others barely making a sound.
Others pounding on my temples,
With the bass down low,
Forcing their way in,
Beats upon beats concealed in this drum roll.
Invading my visions,
Pulling at the strings of my soul.
Making me feel like a radio head,
Stalking my eyelids even when I go to bed.
Partying it up in the 7 corners of my mind,
Confusing my reality with insanity, its disturbingly sublime.
They’re swirling around,
Far above the ground. Refusing to land.
I may have to push them off the flight,
Forced evacuation. Parachute in hand.
I’m dizzy trying to keep up,
When I close my eyes they always creep up.
Its an unconventional path, there’s no road map or signs.
Just emotions that get hotter and colder in this body of mine.
I’m the instructor and the pupil,
Teaching my dreams to fly in formation,
For only then will I find piece and peace of mind,
While my pens keep doodling outside these lines.
I see glimpses of my vision,
Tangible then evanescent,
They cannot be bred of atoms,
They must be heaven sent.
They cannot be saved or hoarded,
They must be explored and spent.
As blessed as the manna
As perishable as the holy bread too,
I feed off my dreams. I am fulfilled,
Yet everything feels askew.
I’m part and parcel,
Not quite whole,
For my creativity shall not be consoled,
Until it is allowed to explode.
Squeezed out like grapes converted to a fine wine,
Every last drop consumed while I dine.
Intoxicated by the simple subtleties and by the divine,
As it raises my reserve and lowers my confines.
My cup runneth over,
I’m barely sober.
Every fibre of my being,
Salutes to its owner.
Wondering if she’ll do them the honor,
Of exposing her visions and vices on her.
On her – where they can be seen,
Where they can be upgraded from pipe dreams.
Where they can be judged or jubilated,
Where they can make a scene. #seen.