I want to believe in the power of love, but the power of love is the power of dreams. Dreams of scenes of blisses and kisses and arms wrapped tight around each other's necks, not for choking but for hoping that they can stay forever.
But these are not safety dreams that you wake and shake away.
These dreams are diabolically dangerous disrupting your daily diet of cynicism and sorrow with painfully fleeting glances at an I can't believe its not tears every night kinda life.
Valium and vodka are only stun guns providing handfuls and pocketwatches of comatose moments, unable to stop unwanted unwelcome, unconcious desires from taking back the castle with catapults of internal conflict and confusions of discontent.
It can be a one-way street to a dead end where there's no turning back and no going forward. Only mounting lines of angry motorist emotions who want nothing more than to stick themselves in the same tar-pit trap, sinking to the bottom of a daydream disasterinvading the waking world of everyday wheres the toothpaste woes.
But I sink into that trap willingly. I walk into the quicksand not unaware that I may choke on its grains and nevermore see the light of life's cycling sun, because reality to me is a much grimier affair where even romance is just another product pushed like a street corner drug on an unsuspecting adolescent audience who are seen as nothing more than carefully drawn-up demographics on a corporate flow chart, and I'd rather die inside than have my soul bought and sold by the princes of profiteering and the kings of capitalism.
My dreams are my only escape hatch from a society that I cannot abide where compassion is a crime of self-abuse and a cry to be used by anyone callous enough to rape truth and shit in the mouth of the Mona Lisa.
There are no kicks of self-defence. There are only hopes of a new age of true humanism instead of endless decades of abuse dealt by the belt of our corporate step-forefathers drunk from one too many sips from a cup of distilled pure grain greed.
And for that I will gladly risk the torture of a thousand hopeless emotions.
But these are not safety dreams that you wake and shake away.
These dreams are diabolically dangerous disrupting your daily diet of cynicism and sorrow with painfully fleeting glances at an I can't believe its not tears every night kinda life.
Valium and vodka are only stun guns providing handfuls and pocketwatches of comatose moments, unable to stop unwanted unwelcome, unconcious desires from taking back the castle with catapults of internal conflict and confusions of discontent.
It can be a one-way street to a dead end where there's no turning back and no going forward. Only mounting lines of angry motorist emotions who want nothing more than to stick themselves in the same tar-pit trap, sinking to the bottom of a daydream disasterinvading the waking world of everyday wheres the toothpaste woes.
But I sink into that trap willingly. I walk into the quicksand not unaware that I may choke on its grains and nevermore see the light of life's cycling sun, because reality to me is a much grimier affair where even romance is just another product pushed like a street corner drug on an unsuspecting adolescent audience who are seen as nothing more than carefully drawn-up demographics on a corporate flow chart, and I'd rather die inside than have my soul bought and sold by the princes of profiteering and the kings of capitalism.
My dreams are my only escape hatch from a society that I cannot abide where compassion is a crime of self-abuse and a cry to be used by anyone callous enough to rape truth and shit in the mouth of the Mona Lisa.
There are no kicks of self-defence. There are only hopes of a new age of true humanism instead of endless decades of abuse dealt by the belt of our corporate step-forefathers drunk from one too many sips from a cup of distilled pure grain greed.
And for that I will gladly risk the torture of a thousand hopeless emotions.