Oblivion!

I am afloat.  On a sea of little lies, I am reading books of dystopia, and women, and love as if I stand to correct them all, live them all and savor them all.  I type my epiphanies and write my strangest, wildest, melancholic thoughts under the impression of communicating with  the additional dimension I so patiently  and consistently studied last night.  With nachos dipped in mustard sauce,  and a chocolate cappuccino by my side, staying late night to comprehend The Republic,  and staying late night to understand the quantum. I sleep along the chapters of the anime I wish never ended.  I wear the perfume before bed because my dreams have to smell like mine. I put on the best pair of socks I have;  a barefooted dream feels like a crime.  Why did I be so precise?  The necessity for words of delicate length,  I aspire for elegance while playing the darts,  and I hope for vengeance during the ballet.  Am I too complicat...

I came home the other night,  my shoe rack filled with muddy wear,  the balloon from my November birthday still hanging on rather blatantly. Looking like a stain is my window-- a little bit open at the top to let me see the words of affirmation among the stars.  Pretty, she is. The silhouette of the perfect girl  I have drawn on the canvas in my purple room, often bewildered, often bejeweled,  and often in awe of the reminiscent world.  I came home the other night,  to the smell of the burnt oak tree which was lying around near the backyard  reminding me of how dear it felt to exist once in a while.  A lovely serendipity prying its way onto the screen so very near,  as if I am in a movie where I stay like a stray cat on the warm lap of a woman piercing my paws of hesitation with looks of idyllic smile.  Problematic she is. The enchantment of a lively soul that eludes in the rainbow, and I wish. I wish to see the sequoia once again....