Poem my friend wrote

Running after romance

I long to feel the touch of your skin

to hold you wrapped in my arms

in the night-light park along the trail

on the soft wooden bench

shivering, but with you.

you spoke life into my monotony

you brought fire into the cold depths of my desires

you made me feel like a king

or a prince

or even a jester—I don’t care

as long as I’m with you.

you.

you who left me

you who left me a mess

you who left with half my heart

and the rest of it.

I hate breathing

I hate fun

I definitely hate the sun

I hate the cold stone bench

made of deceitful lies

I hate the park where we used to picnic

I hate the scenes we parodied

And most of all, I hate you.

Life is a nothing I can’t escape

I walk in a hazy, turning, empty reality

Someone wake me up.

Still asleep.

I learned to live here

what the locals call, “Getting over it”

they introduce me to a new pursuit

or maybe a distraction

Education.

Here, I flourish

I provide brilliant insight into their puzzling conundrums

I uncover unseen ways to think, speak, and write

They call me a solutions manual

an answer key

a protégé to provide resolution to their plaguing obstacles.

All of this, I considered with pride

until the day that I was found tried.

No longer were my masterpieces masterpieces

my insights were blind

my understanding became deaf

and I was left

frigid, tired, cold.

Dreams are reality

Reality is dreams

(I wrote that!)

and I don’t know which I’m in

but if this is a dream

Wake me up

Still asleep.

Or maybe awake—I still don’t know

it doesn’t matter.

Money is the new mantra of my soul

Money buys happiness

things

friends

More things

parties

Even More things

fun

A whole bunch of things

love

Money buys things

things

a hell of a lot of things.

But every time I buy something

I sell myself

money owns me

no matter how much I have

I can’t buy myself back

money can’t buy me into reality

money can never

Wake me up.

Still asleep.

In this dream

I’m surrounded by people of power

people desperate for power.

Power is a chance to change the world

power is a chance to change

power is a chance to craft the world the way I want it to look

the way I’ve thought about it.

So power and I are pals and

we begin to strategize and

we put into motion new projects and

we produce products and fill the people with propaganda

Now I control the mantras

I’m in charge of the public opinion

I decide what happens

when and where anything happens

that’s me.

Everything you see on TV

the movies you watch

the shows you talk about

the games you play

even the way you look

the ads, the billboards, the commercials

that’s all ME!

Then I look at myself on the commercials

I look at myself in the billboards and ads

for a while I believed my own image

I put faith in my own propaganda

I thought I was helping people

I thought I was benefitting society.

All I really did was chase a throne

of knives and lies

that pierce your ass when you sit on it

and drips blood to the poor people below to drink

your powerful, precious blood.

Please wake me up.

Still asleep.

Lying under the burden of my own guilt

like a beast of burden I carry my sins

like that beast in the desert I thirst

I thirst for peace.

In the distant philosophies and religions I see

an oasis

a place of rest

a place of recuperation

Hope.

Desperate, I chase teachings

hungry, I cling to beliefs

longing, I suffer traditions.

They tell me that people are basically good

that mankind is progressing to utopia

world peace

freedom for all

justice for the poor

kindness

goodness

these are the things I devote myself to

and out of my good nature I do good works

propelling me toward the oasis.

Finally I arrive

I will set my burden down

I will cast off my sins

I will drink and baptize in the water

I will rest under—

I arrive only to find

a mirage

all my hopes

my desperate attempts

my hard good hard works

A dream

I can’t be in this dream anymore

I can’t be in this dream anymore!

Wake me up!

Still asleep.

I’ve learned to make my own reality

in my reality

nobody gets hurt

nobody is lied to

love is real

in my reality

what you say matters

your thoughts are profound

your wisdom wise

in my reality

money isn’t everything

and you can’t human traffic yourself

in my reality

all men are the same

there is no image

everyone is treated equally

in my reality

the only religion allowed is whatever you believe

as longs as it doesn’t hurt someone else.

But this reality fades

this reality is a one night stand

this reality is a heroin high

right to the brain

and drops you without a cry

like pornographic pictures that once brought pleasure

but now only haunt and taunt and torment

and remind me of all the lives I’ve ruined

all the marriages I’ve marred

all the babies I’ve aborted

all the places I’ve looked for myself

and all the things I’ve done to find myself

and now I finally find myself

arms full of needle holes

skin full of scares

taking sleeping pills

because injection is easier than electrocution.

I’m bleeding inside

and I wish it would come out

because maybe then you would hear me cry

WAKE ME UP!

I’m awake now

I see and understand those dreams.

We live our lives chasing dreams

we look for love

caught up in passionate romance

fun flirtations and fiery sex.

In love we seek security

but real security only comes

from the one who can wake us up.

We explore education

the latest line of thought

the forefront of intellectual expansion

the thrill of thinking—really thinking.

We explore, we seek, we chase

an open door

a community of acceptance

but even our brightest ideas grow dim.

Our thoughts are only genuinely valued

by the one who can wake us up.

We march for money

mindlessly following its fallacious fabrications.

Money can’t fill the void in our lives

that void is reserved

for the one who can wake us up.

We plead for power

we chant “Change!”

yet a mountainous throne for men

is a mounting calamity.

We search out a seat

but our butts aren’t made for thrones of men

and the only thrones for us are the ones designed

by the one who can wake us up.

We rely on religion

to give us remission

but redemption is not in ourselves.

If we’re so good

why the hell is it so hard to do good

and how come nobody’s really good

or perfect.

Doctrines are delightful

rules are regulating

but nothing compares to living

with the one who can wake us up.

We subjugate ourselves to pleasure

and pursue sensual sensations

hunting highs and making merry

then we’re dropped like a cheap date

a worthless wretch.

The only guiltless pleasure

is in the one who can wake us up.

Now I’m awake

And I know

nothing we do holds

nothing in life matters

except for One thing

One Person

the One who can wake us up.