when dreams coem and go, can we really go with the flow?

when all you are gets crushed, what do you have but God? your life long aspirations called a mere escape, a ploy "when will you stop dreaming and think realistically" is what they say. you might as well have lived alone all these years since your so called family forgot you a long time ago. its makes blood boil and tempers flare, yet i remain calm? what is a good heart good for if it cant do anything? answer: display. am i just a freak to be watched and played with? if so play as much as you can because i am flying away. take these broken wings and learn to fly, fly blackbird fly.

dreams come and go, but do we know why?

i had a dream... i lost a very good friend of mine... she was forsaken by her family and she was injured... i started from her house asking of her whereabouts. they did not know, but all there was to find her was a trail of her blood. every minute was horror. i followed the thin worn out drops of blood for hours, through the apartment. it led outdoors, through a beaten path, to a rushing lake... there were goons there... i jumped over them but landed in the water... there was a voice... it told me that i should give up. as i was heading towards a steel gate in the waterway it told me to be as straight as possible because the gate would kill me otherwise... i listened and slipped though... i went back up to the goons to follow the trail of blood. i kicked one of them in the face and continued to run behind a building and around them... i regained the blood trail.. it lead through the bush and across a cement pillar over the waterway... it lead to an abandoned house, and into that houses crawl space... i followed the blood through a very cramped passage and to a small vent... it was to small to fit in and was shut off.. i knew because the voice told me... i continued though the passage until i came back out in the main area... the blood had now crossed paths and it was hard to tell what trail led to what.... i looked down and cried... then woke up with a fever in a boiling sweat... i wanted to go back.. i wanted to find her... help her... save her... but i couldn't... it was imposable... the thought made me tear up... so i lay in my bed alone and cold..

"i give my men hope, and keep none for myself."

as i enter this place, this thing, where i do not wish to call home, all i can think is that it is broken. a great palace once majestic and free, now consumed by darkness to leave me in a 24" by 40" abode. by the worlds standards i am rich. i have known this since young and will until death, "the richest people are the saddest." i unlock the two chamber doors and take off my shoes - its dark, and lonely. i turn on the light to feel like there is something that i still love in this place, there is little.

i think in my head over and over, im so happy that it was me that must suffer this pain so that the other could live normally. i miss my home, i miss my bed, i miss my long waits to get into the washroom because my sister hogged that area, i miss my sister, i miss my mother without booze, i miss my best friend josh, i miss my bike that i rode to the park, i miss the green grass and the tall trees, i miss my father that i never knew, i miss not playing catch with him and going fishing with him, i miss the home cooked meals, i miss the sweet taste of love in every bite, i miss the comfort of knowing i am loved, i miss the comfort of knowing i have something or someone to protect, i miss myself and the times before this mess, but im glad, that the pain now i can give to god.

as i sit and type, tears fall to the keyboard, my palm still tender from the trials and my head longing for its pillow. i feel free yet confined for i understand only that i will wake up tomorrow and waist another day, not of my will, but that of what the world wills. i miss the happy birthdays and the merry christmas's. i miss my grandmother and grandfather, i miss not knowing so much, i miss not being able to do so much, i miss being futile and useless.

but i dont hold onto them. no, i only imagine them in my dreams so i can be free once in a while. free from my sin, free from my mistake, free from myself.

i sit in the courtroom and point out the one who assaulted me, i lay on the grass bloody, saying that i was a good boy, i lay in the tub with an inch of water thinking "what did i do wrong?". i sit back, take another hit of pot, and chuckle. i think it is stupid that this kid writes on a blog. he should get a life and stop being a fag. i take another line of devil powder, i fall back into my chair laughing. i cut the phrase "love hurts" into my arm knowing it is the only place it will not be seen with this hoodie. i sit on my bed and wonder why they are getting drunk, i wonder why they are abusive. i lay in the hospital bed of a psych ward, wondering if i am mentally sane. i sit in my chair crying, writing on my blog. i go to sleep, whats next lord?