There is ambition, but no motivation
in the mind of "what could I be?"
conflicting thoughts flooding within
unraveling all the negativity
20/20 sight but blinding any vision
and every premature dream becomes only a bruised thought in the mind of a dreary dreamer
there is no way to go,
if you don't know where you're going
losing all hope, but refusing to give up
a walking contradiction
but they still see blurred colors
and enjoy the fog
so they'll keep walking blindly
side to side with their negative thoughts
and that's why they are my favorite
because I too, am one
a kaleidoscope dreamer-
I don't know where I'm going
but I'll know before I'm gone

Numbers of the lights still don't add up. The dream station on the orange bridge's sands, is so totally too far away to fly to. My life according to the animadversion of my dreams. The harangue and opprobrious odium whilst wandering about aimlessly in the square, on the blackened honey trail where I was cast around like some pebble lapidated by the wind. I barely stand, a hyaloid column soaked in fear and ambiguphobia; one girl's face is blurred by this maddening diplopia. While the haze drapes me in its suits of cinereous gray, I crawl sadly up the rise while I am bruised from the battering. My fuscous body heaps itself, exhausted and pandiculating, all I can make out in the advesperating and cloudy night, in all of its dourly silences- the gold hair fixed against the banner of light in the darkening sky and her beautiful blue eyes.