A springboard placed beneath my spine
is suddenly let loose
as I am tossed from my blissful slumber
into the rigid world.
A sigh of dissapointment dissolves the board,
and my body slumps down into a
misty lagoon of warm blankets and pillows
and linens that smell of me.
This is my world.
My reality that is constantly disrupted
by dreams beginning with springboard action.
My reality that consists of me.
You call my world a dream world.
You say it is a fabrication of my starving mind.
You say it is only real through a misperception.
But isn't that what perception is?
Real is only what you percieve real to be,
not what everyone else finds a common ground upon,
what everyone else is able to adapt to,
what everyone else can dream alike.
Why must I be pulled into your whirlpool of endless cycles
of dispair, stress, greed, and pride?
Why can't I just live in my OWN reality
which consists of me.
This place is not real.
I am not real when it consumes me.
Where I am not now is my reality.
It makes me real as much as I make it real.
My mind is untainted by the plagues of mankind,
such as fear or stress.
You say my mental fabrication is absurd, that it cannot be percieved as real,
yet, I can feel.
I can feel everything within me,
everything that moves,
everything that touches,
every emotion that is consummated.
Put me in a coma.
Let me live in my world day and night,
year after year.
It is never redundant; it won't hurt me.
Stop telling me to shatter my glass!
Stop telling me to face what is REAL!
I have faced it, but you cannot face MY reality!
My glasses will lie in a thousand pieces before you see what I see without
them!
The shards will shred my skin to a thousands ribbons before you feel what I
feel without the pain!
My soul will suffer a thousand times greater before you let me go.
It is my perception that I am real in my reality.
It is your perception that I am insane living in a dream world.
Perceptions make all the difference.
But are you real?
Do your perceptions make you real in what you call the real world?
In your dreams, do you feel?
I feel.
It must be real.
It has to be real.
If it is not real, I have no reason to endure the days and nights I remain
in this world; I only stay to dream.
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