I Hate My Dreams.

Where do I go when I sleep?

I go to a place I hate.
Because I go to a place where everything went right.
I go to a place where we can't stop smiling.
I go to a place where I'm happy.


I hate that place.


Because eventually  my bleary eyes have to open.
Because eventually paradise needs to disappear again.
Because I need to wake up again.
I need to wake up to a world where idealism isn't true and hope runs dry.
I'm forced to be torn away from happiness, my glorious paradise, my own utopia.
The utopia I hate because it vanishes right when I remember how to smile again.
My heaven disappears and is replaced with filth and lies.
Lies.


But I'm addicted.
That world is my nicotine and I can't seem to function without it.
So I rush back.
I become a hero, I fall in love, I learn to laugh again, and I wake up.
I wake up and Sadness, she creeps in like a poison.
Starting at my stomach and slowly clawing her way up to my throat and through my eyelids.

The dream lingers on the fringes of my mind, but along with that previous and brief elation,
The paradise vanishes and I'm left grasping the air for a shard of memory.
A small friendly piece of what I had.

My dragons and unicorns slowly melt away.
My true Love's face is smeared to a blur and I forget their name.
My kingdom crumbles to pieces and I'm left with the familiar dim glow of my alarm clock.

I'm left with an unbelievable disappointment and rage.
A rage at the place that makes me happy.
A place I hate.


Happy Friday.