Daydream

A waste of your fair time...

Surrealism, warped realities, conveniently altered

So that the bad days are painted over in a layer of gold.

You claw apart each delusion with cracked nails,

Staining the paper crimson with the blood of dreams you killed.

 

God hates me as much as I hate myself.

I don't care about him, it was you I was worshipping.

The bleeding shrine is closing.

The sky pours down its translucent, crystal blood,

I guess the celestial bullet-wounds never heal.

 

Daydreams have morphed into something lucid,

Their code etched across a gravestone in scarlet letters.

The granite-grey bleeds black-red through hieroglyphic scars,

I am no longer able to subconsciously escape,

So I will bring down this mental hell,

 

 

For I will kill this mortal abyss of flames.

Author's Note

I don't believe in god. So sue me ;)

Reviews

[Rob Santana]

God hates me as much as I hate myself. Wow. Strong words indeed. Good job. Kat.