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Offices

I find no comfort in the facts you give The numbers of people dying While some refuse to live Adventures never taken By free people, or so they say Money is the reason In these offices we stay Advertisements

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Lost Meaning

Then I scream DON’T OVER THINK IT! It’s just a dream An empty thought that found its place Refusing to let go of me Ideas dying to be told, but I’m surrounded by deaf ears So I scream After all, no one will hear The deafening silence within (Poet’s often die unheard)

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Scripts

The editing changed the meaning Like Photoshop changed the girl But this time no beauty was added No Not at all And you lost the original It’s on a napkin on a floor In a bar that you hardly remember From the night before 

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The Poet’s Dream

Ideas that take foreign shapes lead to restless sleep He lays his head ignoring the ghosts of the undead … She posts a post on Facebook that no one understands “Why’s she so weird? Who would like this post?” They whisper behind bright screens, reblogging ideas simple and plain He dreams of knowing her name…

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