though unknowingly spaced out,
whilst driving unthinkingly
i somehow go straight

all else being equal
i’d prefer to die alone
without the hassle of knowing
without the hassle of being known
locked up in solitary simplicity
locked out of cooperative complicity
never having to say “hi my name is ____”
never having to shake a hand.

what is a dream
a thought, a desire
to be loved, or feared
which is a dream that is unattainable
the asinine fool has many
as does the wise hermit atop a hillside
do the experienced have only that has been
withered and dried up
and spoiled by the pestilence
that plagues the earth so old
what is the purpose of dreams
and what is the meaning of life
these questions are balanced and same
and those plagued with too many dreams
are they expected to be anything less than fatigued
with a lost hope of life, liberty, love and purpose to carry on

these are no butterflies
i am aware of what i lose
as i lose it every day
we talk about the end of
the world, tomorrow
as if it’s something
normal to see
but i know no matter
how far i stretch my
legs i will never feel
more at home.