Portrait Of Refinement

You understand that this new life is extraordinary, this life is one to trust and to love. Can I let you see that there is more to the story to that of which you had thought to be a means to an end? Believe me when I tell you with my everything that there is more, that you are becoming part of it. A pathway tries to make distinction, taking shape, taking form, and I will no longer have to speak with my words. Having been recognized for the meaning behind a beautiful masterpiece. That not one will come into contact with another way of being, without thoughts of truth and purity. Creating an inner picture of the other end. The mark of our direction will be in the power of the extent to which we let our minds become. Let yourself fall.

Memory Of A Strange Essence

The vision, it left me puzzled. Dreaming of a moment lost in time. Something of significance has been captured. A long lasting scent of beauty. Fallen curls against a lovely face. A crowded place, surrounding wanderers.

Having not been awake since the end of our existence. The sounds of myself calling out to the past. They said they had dreamed of me. I told them, it was not a dream, more real than this illusion we stand in.

Wondering if I had been missing the signs. Unaware of the dream, traveling to secret places. Who they might be, might not be determined. Where the dream leads, it is lacking in precision.

Visiting the person we have created. They know more than I can tell you in words. The power of the dreamer lies here. Purpose says you exist somewhere in time, you are something more.

Make Sense Of Meaning

Check me out, they scream. I'm here, and I want your world. There's an absence, I recognize myself.

I listen to the mind numbing sounds of the people.

Taking pieces, and constructing obscurities. No one will make sense of it, but its not to be made sense of.

You can make sense to me, I can travel outside of my own.

I can come into the web of you're thoughts, so fuck the rest.

They're the ones that know without knowing. Old friends, and distant memories.

The Unknown World of Lunacy

First impressions... there were none. Not knowing myself enough to really chose something to go on. You can see it in their eyes when they don't understand.

Unworthy... as they sink into their mindless worlds of deception. holding tight onto their preconceived ideas of what this woman might be, but you will never even come close to understanding the mystery behind this form, so many expressions, so many faces, so many seasons and so many changes, how this never stays the same for long, as the moon waxes and wanes so does she.

Does it satisfy the mind or could it be something they had missed? I am conscience of my being but I don't feel real, gazing into your curious eyes wondering where I had lost myself, feeling something extraordinary, having stolen that world from me. She was then looking for answers in every direction,

And so she sent herself out into the world, into a delusional world, but the world non the less, it may have been a dream, but it was now too late to ponder. She was wandering somewhere vaguely familiar, she had shoved it away into the quiet place of make believe, the feeling had fallen so far down she could barely remember if it was real, but so she went on waiting for nothing to find her, frantically scanning her memories, some false some true, of what she thought might have been her life at some point in time.

There was now a sense of emptiness, perhaps a loss of something vital.
I was there standing above the pathways... tired, weak and straining to keep my eyes open. Hearing someone crying out to me, as I turned away... hiding in the dark she held them... feeling inferior, vulnerable and anxious, they dissipated into her world of make believe.

And they always ask why it was said this way, what it might be about the hopelessness of it all that was so thrilling, what might it be about this world of fantasy that you might not interpret the very same way.

It stops for a moment, then I find myself wondering if I'm my own at all, as
something slides its way inside my head, perversion of the mind, being drawn into a haze. singing the song. singing it without worry.

Seeking refuge in the deafening noise, beginning to amplify, waiting for the day, but there was no waiting. "Chose a side" she said... No, I couldn't possibly.