I think I love to dream
Because inside of those places that don’t exist
And while surrounded by those faces that I’ve created,
I can understand who and what is around me.
There is no great trick or deeper meaning to the actions or reactions that take place
And all of it is rendered meaningless when I stir each morning.

No scars run deeper than a short encounter.
No fear runs farther than a flicker in time that shifts the universe into something a bit more bearable.
It is this grand, momentary space where people continue to see me.
If I am hated, there is the simple explanation of no explanation at all, just the push of the plot meant to create a story behind closed eyes that wont wince at the greatest danger.

It’s the only place I know how to exist amongst others.
Because when I stare in their eyes while I’m wide awake
They are complex and confusing and full of lies and truth.
They do the opposite of what they say most of the time, I’ve found.
And it seems they all know how to cope with each others faults and deficiencies in a way I cannot seem to do.

I love people, I want to be surrounded by them and show them how I dance through life and be shown how they paint the world so beautifully.
I want it to be a gesture in the dark that will litter the night sky with stars.
A resounding love that will taste like sunshine.

But, for now I’ll dream of faces who can turn shape while I stare into their eyes,
And of hate that dissipates like smoke,
And I’ll only wince in the morning.

Take me to the ocean please.