State of Dreams

no sleep distorting everything, he is lonely as ever in a world where all minds are forver sleeping

When passing into a dream like state, only the chaos of the minds most hidden faces, screaming out, begging to be shown, appear. All is beautiful, intesenifyed to a point beyond structural outlines that make sense, to, large and flowing, for the mind to hold. Delirium is ecstasy, that is when this state is reached. Sitting alone in the bed far to large for just one, the emptiness of not comprehending is let out. Alone Crying. With nowhere to go but up, up, up he needs to reach. With no ways or means of transportation, chasing nothing in this state of misery he will lay, lie to himself that nothing is wrong.Beat broken and destroyed, insanity seeping out making him an empty shell. Of only appearance. How will he pertain connection to those around him. How can this pretending continue? Forcing his eyes shut he began to get, just one minute of peace- of something else taking over. Not quiet sure what he felt besides the empty hopelessness, nothing could get through. It will be over just as soon as he closed his eyes, just as soon as he closed his eyes. Shivering with relentlessness his breathe came out in tried huffs of hazy smoke. Light snaking through the blinds he finally goes out to see what it is. He gets up to freeze it away- shutting himself in with a secure yank; nothing more was able to get into the room so dearly hidden with caution. His eyes adjusted to the nothing encompassing him in. Empty pages of meaningless words screamed at him, jeered at his failed attempts. Yet another thing beating against him, breaking him down into a bigger pile of useless remedies. Why did everything that he tried to accomplish seem so unfinished, why was everything so final and death like staring back at him with a grim smile of evil intentions. Sitting back down, he hugged himself with numb anesthesia. A breeze of staleness blew through, coming from nowhere, going to no place- slightly lingering in the layers of his curtains, disrupting his previous effort of trying to place things where they fit in the puzzle. If only he had a place to fit, cast away with soggy catharsis only rejection was completely known to him. Yet again, mindlessly making his way to the soul eyed window to the world of the unknown, he closed to reopened magnifying glass that tempted to peer in on him.

          A strange yellow ball, floating like a balloon, happily among all, protecting all whispered into his heart. Whispering yellow secrets of locked away remorse. Moaning madly at the examination it was penetrating into him. Seeking something more than just practiced blank eyes, and dull dead hair, the icicles used as fingers, portraying only transparent frozenness. Instantaneously he appeared to float back to his bed, ghost like he did fall, waiting for the occurrence of haunting wind, he fell beneath layers and layers. Hitting bottom, with nowhere to go but up, the brightness leaving everything darker than before.