There's an emotion,
It's deep inside;
I think it's buried
Somewhere I can hide.
For plenty of action,
There's no satisfaction;
No want, nor a prayer
Has brought me inaction;
Still I fill my cup,
And I drink from it deeply,
For nothing but sleep
And a fragile peace keep me,
From doing the things that
I see in my dreams;
Acknowledging that
I'm the monster I seem;
With a shrug of a shoulder,
I'll say that it's over,
I'll tell myself I can lament
In a dream,
Yet something so violent,
As real as it seems,
Leaves me with a silence
As I intervene...
I am not a good man. Let's start with that. I also have a lot of prophetic dreams. It apparently runs in my family; my great- uncle, my grandma's younger brother, is an actual Buddha. My great-grandfather apparently was beaten with a broom by his wife for telling her that my grandmother was going to be the first of our family to leave Vietnam during the war. I've written about these kinda of dreams before; but now I'm just gonna say ***** it and go personal. This is what I do to deal with mine.
