City of my dream, twisted it seems,
Like my fantasies from before.
The gridlock of bricks, wooden sticks,
No humans living there anymore.
Or even if they are, they're alien,
They don't know their neighbor still.
A comparative enmity of thinking,
A pervasive feeling of ill will.
The sky plain, the sun or rain,
The cycles keep shiny the sheen.
Future comes and melts into past,
The present in the city between.
My life as I look back in foggy glass,
A childhood spent in awe.
The package of gods and goddesses,
Heaven's hilarious bribery law.
It wasn't really the dark clouds,
That were unpleasantly bright.
The rainbows were talking to me,
I hushed them to be quiet.
But the unquiet grew, and now it's loud,
The voices have sinews and force.
The nights descend every now and then,
The nightmares are my source.
Welled up anger, signs of danger,
A simmering caldera of furious force.
On the surface a placid lake,
A baby duck taking a swimming course.
Impending doom, the fear and gloom,
The anxiety and depression of being.
Hardly anything at all I have,
To deal with what I am not seeing.
Waning my mind, weak the bind,
With reality as I knew as a child.
Now the games are up,
Weeds growing everywhere are wild.
A nagging unsettling doom looms,
Awake, a futile sisyphian thankless task.
A morbid shadow long hands outstretched,
To pour life into life's ghoulish mask.
