This Will Never Change

The sound of these words in my mind rattled me awake in the earliest point of day/night.I had a dream. And in that I was once again reminded that it is all a dream. When I reentered this realm I couldn't tell it from the other. The disorientation left me such a sense of vagueness I had to write. Because where is a writer's mind? In the land of the dreaming.
Moments in this world overwhelmed me with emotions. Making me believe that they are in control. And for a second, a flash I lost hold of my title, of my thoughts as Queen Of My Own Tiny Part Of Universal Existence. It was just for a moment, and that moment was a life time in my own eyes. I sometimes think my mind as an artist, and my mind as a participant in the human drama gets all mixed up. I too often dream of things that will happen later own in the day. I have not decided to take my dreams as a warning, or as a gift. I also haven't figure out if I dream the future, or am I just picking up universal thought waves?
I can't really tell. What I do know is my life exist for poetry, and prose alone.
And this will never change.

This happened as I died

The filth of the city drives us all mad with craving, with hunger, with lonely silence bleeding through our ears.
A couple catches my eye on the subway. He must have been handsome at one time. She must have been beautiful. But they have destroyed one another. Clinging to lost hope, want, and jealously. They now die in each others arms. Never being what could have been.

The city destroys you like love. Like procreation, or political banter. The metropolis is a lie we all know of, but still choose to believe in. We will all crush one another someday, and feed off the flesh of the the lost dreams. I see it in the eyes of the infants. Living as orphans though they still cling to their teenage mother's breast.

The metropolis stings my eyes like the sun if you stare directly into it. Why have I given it so many years? Why don't I go off to some tropical escape? The only true answer is; I thrive on the emptiness, and bitter hatred the city has to offer. If I did make my great escape. It wouldn't be for tropical isles, with girls in skinny bikinis. It would be for more of this. Gas masked citizens, and barely beating hatred hearts of men, teenagers plugged so deeply into the machine they can't remember what planet they're on.

I am the dream of my former self. I've come to introduce you to the filth left behind by the loveliest butterfly you have ever seen. But I already know you wouldn't recognized a butterfly if it's metal wing brushed up against your retina cutting the first layer of it completely off.

I am Josalisa and my life is ending every second of every day.

Is This Forced? Or May The Force Be With Me.

People say you have to practice your craft every day. You know as disciple. I try but I don't like things to feel forced. If writing isn't just a natural inspiration then it's just boring. I think having to do the same thing every day is boring anyway. So there's the conflict of interest. I don't know. I sometimes like to think of myself as a post-punk poet. Nay I just made that up, I don't create titles for myself like that. For me it's all just random mathematics. So what's that like? A giant jigsaw puzzle with the different pieces all falling constantly at random.
So what's the point here? I forgot. The New Kids On The Block are on Jimmy Kimmel right now. I don't have anymore time for this. The moral of the story is. I want white waves to flow over my body, as the sunshine kisses my lips.
For now I have the sweet light of the moon. And it is brilliant.

Insomnia

So I have been awake all night. It is now 5Am, and your girl is still conscience. I watched way too much television tonight. And now I am hoping music can put me to sleep. I have to say I am enjoying being up all night. Getting kind of tired now, so I'm going to try to enter Morpheus' gate. Dear friend please be welcoming. I have a high sensory situation going on right now, I have a feeling tomorrow will be a nice adventurous day. Or I could just sleep all day. Whatever. Good night. For me at least.

If I Didn't Live Among The Robots

If all my dreams came true
I would look around more often
And realize your girl's been hot
I'd write more poems to the ether
And perform improve in theaters
If I didn't live among the robots
I'd realize this is all my crazy fantasy
Daughter of an android
In an alternate galaxy
I'd like people more
If I could just stop meeting Orwell in my dreams
And the cameras weren't on all the time
My final destination will be a Martian work colony
Ray Bradbury told me
I'd be more free
If it weren't for all the robots
I'd be a real girl
Not just a poet on a spaceship
Disguised as a planet

Floating In This Space

In the interest of preserving the mind
I offer these lines
To the empty waves of ether
I woke up from a dream last night
And didn't know what dimension I'd stumbled into
Are you real
Then why am I so far away from you
In my own haze
Or slumber
We can all be just want we want
Yet we all choose to be astronauts
Floating by the sun
Here on spaceship Earth

The Suck My Sosa Adventure

I had a cool little adventure yesterday. I went to see Jess, & Johnny.
I got to show off my knew short hair cut.
Contrary to my previous belief. Short hair is more fun.

We took the bus everywhere as usual.
And got on peoples nerves with are happy go lucky ways.
As usual.