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
That girl in the coffee shop that looks too shy
They dream, of someone knowing their name
(I’m writing this half asleep)
Without a passport I travel
To lands of my own
To a world that does not require
A paper or a big loan Continue reading My madness
Don’t try to save her
She is singing in her head
Trapping the thoughts you said
Turning them to something beautiful instead
Don’t try to pull her away from the heaven that you call hell
For you don’t know in which hole your beauty fell
You might have thought me poor
Digging for hours in the dirt
Trying to find pieces of my childhood
Yeah…they might have thought me poor
Carrying pieces of sand, acting like there are jewels in my hands…
…See they used to be my own
Earth and dirt to which i belonged
I find me poor these days
With toys already made
Play-doh i did not create
A screen play I did not write
This…none of this… is my own
It’s their thoughts that i came to believe
You might see me looking for a diamond ring, for a white car, to cover up how poor I feel
about what we are
They made sure that her new glasses blocked the rays she used to see
That the magic that distracted her as a child, can no longer be
And so she saw the red, yellow, and green lights
As I wake
I crave sleep
![Reflection [Audio Poem]](https://strangerpaths.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/reflection.jpg?w=825&h=510&crop=1)
![Man [Audio Poem]](https://strangerpaths.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/art-boy-birds-sky-clouds-1.jpg?w=825&h=510&crop=1)
Stranger Paths 