astral dreams

Writing

Locked eyes with the earth as I drifted across galaxies, I dreamt lucidly and I could control everything I wanted to grasp onto. Maybe, the feeling of having control isn’t me it’s just me slowly slipping into insanity. Then again I slip into a comatose state when I go through rough patches in my life. Not physically I simply become deprived of emotions and social activeness.

I could be going out of my mind, or simply I’m just going through things and that’s a part of my design as a human. My actions all have consequences that are a part of the design of life right? Then why am I still feeling as if I’m slowly floating away from the earth and exiting its atmospheric layers.

Maybe I’m higher than most of the beings around me. An ascension I feel I’ve earned through my prophetic views and constant yearning to construe statements. Different views than the ones around me, yet I know that we’re corrupting ourselves. Finding seductive pressures in the way we condemn ourselves to sacrilegious prison that reflect the pain we give ourselves.

Beginning to think I haven’t noticed the pictures of pain painted delicately upon canvases. Ripping them apart, and piecing them together after a violent dispute. If I pieced it all together right maybe I’d find some beauty in the pain yet I’ve never held masochistic tendencies. These ripped portraits float by me as I float through star fields and nova waves I don’t reach out for them, I seem to ignore them. People’s problems aren’t mine to piece together yet I want to reach out and create a gorgeous collage for them to live through.

Instead of grasping for other people’s shredded portraits I’ve been trying to grasp onto the dwarf stars and blood red stars out into the world. Trying to find a specific place for me to exist in and meditate on the ins and outs of my life so far.

Life is still nothing but a lucid dream to me.

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