Saturday, September 11, 2010

paradox in five or no dimensions

Sounds to be physical thoughts;
the beating of ideas, the rhythm of confusion,
the consciousness of the flow.

Punctured, bleeding out ideas;
ones that will never be made, or heard,
so realness is lost.

Pain as joy that is perceived dangerously;
without enough caution to be prepared for
disorder of itself.

Imagining is catching air with butterflies
and burning them for freedom with
hopes, or ensuring of to-be-dated.

Un.able to un.hear, un.see, un.speak, un-
do what makes you spill the moment,
or recall a name that you don't own.

Knowing of dreams, you dream of knowing,
that your dreams know what you don't-
dream of- another home for your soul.

1 comment:

Jake said...

An awesome poem!!! Haha I luv how we were both thinking about butterflies this weekend!