Through The Door, Where Dreams Implore, Leaving Questions Asking More

The Ill Death Report From The Dream

Ill death, but still I live free.

Sugar kiss is not the way,

My melody now rings more like a freedom bell.

Chimes with no lustful charm, Celibacy is a place now where I dwell.

Raindrops fall by my window, crying.

I hear her voice gently, echoing like a soft push,

Swoosh and swish through the air.

"You see me," we connect,

A hold like the silver locket picture you hold.

I feel the presence of your breath,

Different from this earthly oxygen,

Unique, reborn, and misunderstood in the dreamers realm.

Alien in my own homeland,

Or perhaps this lavish life is false.

It all seems like an illusion, grand but calm.

Says the palm reader who misread me all along,

Another dish plate to wash, another misplaced heart.

Trading it for a deck of tarot cards,

Which morality play outweighs the right?

The window looks through my door,

In black and gray, seeking an answer.

As you turn away, the word seek says,

Through that broken heart, see now with bloody eyes.

Which is worse as both would cry?

Look up to the sea, the stars gentle like the ocean breeze,

Another raindrop washes my bloody eyes, but my broken heart remains blind.

The window looking through my door,

I hear time chiming with the sea,

Yet another door recesses inside my mind reports to the dream.

Freedom needs to be earned to truly be free.

The sound of silence - through peace it makes a sound.

Serenity, monk-like zen, silence is now my sound within,

Healing the bleeding heart, yet to mend.

Stars once made of dust, similar to how they created us,

The method applied - pay attention, pay attention, it says.

No need to hunger for only half of that cake,

Seemingly urgent impulses Overwhelm the word control,

Watch what you feed or end up like my still bleeding heart.

A silver lining says, at least your eyes can now see.

Metaphor insists - don't be greedy,

You can't have your cake and eat it too.

Remember what led you to fall in love,

Taking that fearless chance,

Like an ill death, yet living free,

Among the stars in the ocean.

A sound breaks the silence, a peaceful frequency,

Familiar, like a once lost taste bud regained.

Senses that give intuition its name,

Strong is that force - energy truly reads.

Body language speaks louder than the obnoxious tongue,

Sometimes verbal language isn't enough.

If only real angelic eyes could read my scars,

Like noticing a hole in the ship, you need to fill that void.

Space, my new adventure, before I embark,

Stitch me back up, doctor,

The prognosis of an ill, broken heart fading,

Eyes drifting alone in the dark,

Preparing for the trip to space, seeking the spark plug.

Conveying truth, I walk back home,

To ponder what's on my mind.

What's the point in trying when half the world is deaf, dumb, and blind,

Arrogant - even a pig wouldn't truffle with their kind.

Have I lost that optimistic telescope,

The one with the Aurora Supernova view?

All I see now is a bad fast-food menu,

Mediocre at best, life shows its other side,

Not the fearful ill death in a wooden box six feet under.

Awakened by the raven's call, but now, I ponder,

Gestures these people make, as if they are the awakened ones,

Yet my analyst's dream report notes,

A new breed of Homo sapiens, puppets on strings.

Controlled by emotions, walking with a false plugged in generator,

Claiming to be awake, tightening their own noose.

Thieves, murderers, and lonely wolf cries,

Desperate for attention, yet unseen in their inauthenticity.

Everywhere, in a new digital world - generators rebuilt,

Search for real seems futile.

Lost my view, lost optimism,

Perhaps a return to the past,

A longing for genuine connection.

If people don't change, resorting to force is not the answer,

We've witnessed fear's destructive power in history,

How do we save those walking towards destruction?

Chaos, destruction, endless screams,

Russian roulette games, risky business,

Capitalistic scams, Ponzi schemes,

Seems like it's all the same,

Greed laid down, filth, yet they spit amongst the ants,

As if in high society, entitled - so they claim.

As They slowly kill, the world burns,

Asked for my opinion, I am analyzing honest things,

Through a different lens but with empathy,

How to relate in this chaos and hate?

A thousand years ago, change seemed possible,

Now, maybe lost, needing to return to the coffin,

A more alive feeling once laying still,

Society opting for Big Pharma's pill over the natural high.

The healing frequency found, if sobriety was embraced,

Outcast in a world labeled "good,"

Like a fruit from the Utopia Garden,

Yet walking inauthentic paths, hard to find the genuine.

 Where's the real Waldo in a million among the inauthentic,

A sad reality - genuine souls a rarity.

What does it say, hard to find real in a false world ?