Consumed in Fantasies

Self-estranged, self-alienated
fearful paranoid bullshit
allowed to rule my existence
I wake up with that feeling
of tired hopelessness,
drowned in debt,
trying to find that creative spark
lighting a pyre of positivity
Maybe I could find my voice
Lost on that morning long ago,
when people stopped caring to hear it.
self-doubt ripping to shreds
any remnants of courage and strength
When I lose my way,
I run away from the world,
and hide my head from reality.
Ideas of safety
robbing me of my backbone
sloth and torpor
hiding under the guise
of restful relaxation.
Unmotivated to find my way
and guide my own existence,
until procrastination prolongs
into an utter avoidance.


I feel Lost & alone,
A lonely wanderer trapped
in one of my forgotten dreams --
My only companions -- These animals,
playing the parts of my children --
And my brothers -- And my sisters.
A whole family of Animals,
Though we never fully understand
What each other speaks or says--
Although my solitude seems situational,
It seems I quite prefer my hermitage.
My lonely dreams of strangers
don't make me feel any better
And I'm not very conversational as of late.--
Maybe it's better to have these animals
for friends -- They don't demand words.
So I try to find the answer
to who I truly am
And what makes me happy
And how my moods change


Fear runs through
my veins, pumping paranoid
blood through my heart.
I have lost all that I
once held dear,
the wit that shapes
individuality through an ego
or a built up facade
has been cast away into
that abyss of nothingness.
Television, meant for mere entertainment,
grabbing a bewildered mind
away from his own thoughts,
which could so easily sink into
self-loathing.
The quiet is sometimes
too much to bear.
So why not waste a few more hours?
At least I can avoid
getting hurt,
Putting myself on the line
with people,
When conversation falters
and I feel the fool,
For I can think of nothing to say.
Or say something idiotic,
Which is far worse.


There are so many eyes
that I've looked into
and wanted to break social constraints,
telling beautiful pixies
that I'd like to
get to know them.
Yet we just smile
and pass on by
just strangers in the night,
destined to lead these
lonely lives, unsure and wavering
crushed egos, just
trying to get by.
Do we even know who we are?
Just trying to construct identities
to carry us through our
daily existence,
Consumed in fantasies
of who they are
and who we are
Wanting some resemblance of truth,
yet falling deep in subjective realities,
Wading in pools of who we want to be
Drowning in gulfs if expectations,
Worrying about impressions and reputations,
Hoping to greet beauty
without it flying away.
Spirituality, floating in the winds