IJesusChrist
Holofractale de l'hypervérité
- Inscrit
- 22/7/08
- Messages
- 7 482
I don't know if I'm just really into this cause it is mine but I felt a need to post this here,
it is about dreams, reality, and how my thoughts become intense..
The dream that remembers the past,
Before the birth, before the crest,
Showed to you through arbitrary means,
Feel it's touch on your face,
See it's presence in your days.
---------------------------------
A mangled wire in my head,
Try I do, to get to bed,
I close my eyes and count to ten,
Awake to grasp and write in pen.
I sit upright eyes closed tight,
Try to focus with mental might,
An inch above the waking ground,
My thoughts and visions begin to pound.
I grow anxious and cannot sleep,
A herd of wonder in a fleet,
I swing blindly for the image,
Try to rest and stop my feet.
They run along a pitter-patter,
Through puddles and over matter,
Every thinking thought left open,
Try to worry, try to flatter,
Get a grip on my self,
The longest story I begin to tell.
Begin with wonder,
end with rage,
The middle lost in stun,
I always try to gain my thunder,
Never to be done.
A closing eye to the worldy heaven,
An opening door to the free wanderer,
Clock is telling me eleven past eleven,
Help me seize this neuronal plunderer.
Synthetic hopes and dreams lay,
Artificial scenes play,
Natural is the selection found,
In my head,
This Earth is bound.
it is about dreams, reality, and how my thoughts become intense..

The dream that remembers the past,
Before the birth, before the crest,
Showed to you through arbitrary means,
Feel it's touch on your face,
See it's presence in your days.
---------------------------------
A mangled wire in my head,
Try I do, to get to bed,
I close my eyes and count to ten,
Awake to grasp and write in pen.
I sit upright eyes closed tight,
Try to focus with mental might,
An inch above the waking ground,
My thoughts and visions begin to pound.
I grow anxious and cannot sleep,
A herd of wonder in a fleet,
I swing blindly for the image,
Try to rest and stop my feet.
They run along a pitter-patter,
Through puddles and over matter,
Every thinking thought left open,
Try to worry, try to flatter,
Get a grip on my self,
The longest story I begin to tell.
Begin with wonder,
end with rage,
The middle lost in stun,
I always try to gain my thunder,
Never to be done.
A closing eye to the worldy heaven,
An opening door to the free wanderer,
Clock is telling me eleven past eleven,
Help me seize this neuronal plunderer.
Synthetic hopes and dreams lay,
Artificial scenes play,
Natural is the selection found,
In my head,
This Earth is bound.