Get the angle right,
and the light from a wan blue sky
reflects on the sodden ground
like a disco dancefloor,
pathfinding to somewhere
with umbrellas in glasses,
sand between toes
and baked skin

That it is February
in this upper latitude
can do one for a minute,
let us lounge, sweat loose
and remember our grins

I imagine my happy place,
I picture it in vignette taste.
Like looking through colored glass,
There's a sepia quality to its grasp.

Like wading through a dream,
There's a vagueness to its every gleam.
Everything's the same yet different here,
A constant familiarity hangs in the air.

The picture varies from time to time...

Always it would be a house of some kind;
The edges forever unrefined,
Be it a cabin, a mansion, a farmhouse or two or three
Every ***** nook and cranny this mind could carry

Always it would be somewhere remote;
By the sea, the countryside, by a cliff, or under trees,
Sometimes in an open clearing of endless green grass swaying in the breeze.

... Home.

Though every version varies,
One thing's for certain in this house of made-up stories.
Always, always, and always a thousand times more,
You'd be there standing by the door.

Now I never questioned this part somehow
Cause here's the truth of the matter in tow:
This place could be a garbage dump for all I care
But I'd still call it heaven so long as you're there.

And I find that it's the only thing that matters;
To have your figure carved into this place's corners
I'd gladly let this place take your shape
The smell of warm bread and books here you shall drape.

This landscape is treacherous and ever-changing.
But I know as long you're there in my dreaming,
These childish mock-ups of reality
Shall remain my favorite moments of clarity.

It is my piece of heaven on earth,
My secret happy place while I'm on this dirt.

Heaven don't have a name
But God forbid I find it fitting
That if it did, of course

It would be yours.

What is this malaise,
          that awakens with each yawning day.
Quite the tortured mystery,
          to have a mind that seems intent on being rid of me.
Staring at shapes of shadows,
          creating fables with a brain that’s addled
With a nameless affliction.
Kingdoms have lived and died,
          with only I baring witness to their fall and rise.
Scattered noon sunlight sneaks,
        between dusty blinds and sets aflame the world on my walls.
It is here that I feel,
          screams of terror and the joys of triumph.
The delicacy of a daydream.
A place for me.

sometimes my thoughts speak louder
than the vision reality gives me.
pulling me into a reverie
out in this place
called
reality

The thing is
It’s my ******* problem,
Mine alone -
I can’t put that on you.
It’s my own fault,
For feasting on scraps,
Tossed my way
With vague intentions.
I even told myself then,
When I first earned your favor,
To prepare for the worst;
I was bound to get burned.
But it just wasn’t that easy -
I closed my eyes for just a moment,
And liked, too much, what I saw:
A glorious reconciliation
Between my desires and your intentions.
But when I opened them again,
It just wasn’t the same;
I borrowed hope from a daydream,
And have lived in misery ever since.

Don't imagine what it's like to be with me
Because I'm not an easy person to be with
I will tell you I won't cheat
But you will think I am lieing
I will not make you feel secure
Because when you ask me about my day
Or why I dropped off the face of the earth for hours on end
I will tell you I don't remember
And I'm only partially lieing
because I don't want to tell you that my mind was in the clouds and the characters in my head i find more important than you
But don't take this personally because I don't find many in reality more important than the people I dream up
So while you assume I'm cheating I'm digging craters in my bedroom floor pacing around my room talking to myself
But I'll tell you I don't remember
Because that's so much easier than explaining the turmoil going on in my brain

You soak your sun-dried dreams in rose water
And bead them onto strings of premature promises
You once made to your naïve self,
Despite your love for dreaming
The summer moon’s quick departure
Leaves you stranded at train stations
And you make your way back through fields
Of distant memories
Looking for ways to fall asleep