A dream within a dream within a dream

Never have I found so much reasoning in a madness.  
When everything seems right, how can I trace the wrong among all?
And how can I fight my mortality without the immortality of my soul...
This numb life is exploited. Washing away the sour tears that have been wetting my pillows for decades.
The consideration that I have been dictated to own this shit forever is persistent.
Some weak voices play the part of the alarm clock, but I shut them down. I never want to wake up from this dream, but I hate it.  
 
I fear the wakeup call and its responsibilities.  
 
I fear the smiles and the clear sky of the new day after the storm. The sun is burning. The sun reveals my flaws.
It's better to stay in the shadows. It's better to stay under the light of some green candles. I can struggle to romance around them.
I can pretend I love daytime and the sun with some highlighter on my cheeks.
My glasses can mirror their own insecurities and distract them from questioning reality.
There is no wrong since nothing is real.
 
What kind of glue can keep my parts from falling apart?
The art of feeling nothing may be one.
The death inside me keeps me alive.
What is life when you give it no sense? A torture through an egoistic attachment.
An attachment that searches itself in depths where it can't reach.
 
These dialogues with my consciousness voice make me overthink of the origin of my motives, suggesting that I am being selfish.
Ego disguises as a higher self, promoting phony altruism and dignity.
A second persuasive attempt comes as a protection alert and a pride attack, continuously searching for proof everywhere of the non-existing logic in my dreams.
"Don't go for it...just stay here and buy shoes..."
 
 
But whatever you are looking for, you'll find evidence of.
 
Then I realized I want to follow my heart, which is strongly flapping like butterfly's wings flying over a royal garden.
 
She uses words no more and she awaits.
She bursts with vibes that push me forward.
A step closer to my Star, and one closer to my inner light.
 
 
 
How can I be little, like nothing, I am All.
I'm all I've ever feared and sold.
I'm you, I'm evil, I'm god in a pot
I'm not that circus inside my own thought.
I'm what I feel, a projection of love .
A loss among a winery crossword.
A mystery whose conspiracies lies.
A star that is dead, but its light still shines.