Sometimes I Question Your Intellect

I wrote you a letter today.
I confessed to things you wouldn't dream of.
I turned myself in for many crimes.
Then I realized that I had made a mistake-
I could easily continue to fool you
Just as easily as I can fool myself.
So I hit the backspace for approximately seven minutes,
And this is all that is left.
Which is why you should always use a pen and paper when you want to write a letter.

Limbo

I fell into the void
The middle of two extremes
Knowing both
Wanting neither
It's a strange place to be
It's rather lonely here
It's the happiest I've ever been

A Disturbing Lack of Punctuation

I don't think I will say goodbye

I’d rather sit and wait in silence.

I think the nuances of my face are better at explaining

are better at detailing

are better, even, at evading

the question

the expression

the emotion

We lack the words we so desperately need

language has so many limitations

so many complications

misunderstandings

Communication is a tricky thing

I don’t think I will say goodbye

I’d rather sit and wait in silence.

Birds

Words are like birds.

Some are beautiful.

Some are dull.

Some are captivating.

Some annoy the hell out of you.

Some taste good in your mouth.

Some terrorize you.

All serve a purpose.

Where We Go When We Dream

Do you ever have recurring places when you dream?

It’s like a recurring dream, but instead of a situation, you return to a place.

And the place is unknown; strange but, familiar.

And the situations that take you to those places are similar to things that have happened when awake, but slightly different.

And the places - and the things they entail - perturb you in those first few moments when you break out of slumber.

Like it was too real or important to forget.

But you do forget.

But when things start to get blurry, and you panic a bit, trying to recall what happened and why it was so important,

You start to think that maybe the reason it felt so familiar, yet strange, is because it was  real.

Now, hear me out.

Could it be that those times that we visit the strange, familiar places, with strange, familiar people, we’re just visiting another dimension?

That eerie feeling you get from those dreams that stick with you like a splinter throughout the day, could those possibly be memories of another life? 

A strange, but familiar life.

That could explain why it’s so difficult to wake up from those kinds of dreams.

I imagine it can’t be easy crossing between dimensions.

But then I fully wake up and write these thoughts off.

I’ve been watching too much science fiction.