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Am I But A Dream In Your Narcoleptic Fantasies?
You blink twice and I could be gone, but was I ever here, have I ever left?
I never dreamed I'd be like this
You never allowed yourself to think this is what you wanted
In the dark reaches of your soul your mind always cried for something different
Not another group of outcast, not another unique copy of a melted snowflake that all he ever wanted was to be a snowman.
Part of a community of millions to be recognized as one thing, then slowly melt into the ground that tried to support it.
I was an ant crawling out of my nest in the ground and I thought that i could make something out of myself.
Just an ant, but to me that molehill was a mountain, but now it lies beneath my feet because i have toppled it
and now a black boot comes down from the sky, and topples me, and i no longer see because my life is gone, but the shoe was nice and polished.
I'm a polished shoe, i'm nice and shiny and people like me, until I step in the shit that is life, and smell funny, but for a nickel I can be shiny again.
A nickle that goes from hand to hand buying simple pleasures for simple minds, and being part of the whole transaction of a purchase that we all know was unnessecary
although we enjoy ythe material items that our nickel sacrificed its life to help us get
and now he shall be forced to spend his time sitting in a cramped room with a bunch of imitations of himself, that are all slighty different
every nickel wanting to be a dime, and every dime a quater, and every quater just wishing to be made out of green paper so it could be something more.
Every dollar just wanting to end its cycle tired of being passed from hand to hand and being used.
Every dollar is tired of being used, and being called dirty money. They use me, then call me dirty.
I'm tired of being a pattern.
You should be tired of being a statistic.
Another line and graph.
Another pie chart, just trying to decide whether we want to spend our life as Strawberies, or blueberries, but never want to be the jam.
Just another strawberry being drowned in choclate letting my fantasies become the end of me, or the begining of a new delight to see.
I've spent all my life trying to escape reality, when all the things around me are just being me.
H. Jason Patterson III
