Good dream or a bad dream?

Sitting on your boss’s lap, leaning in and falling asleep
While he does work for you on the laptop
Someone comes in to check
He responds, ‘This is team-building…’

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“Life is but a Dream” – Lewis Carroll

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear

Long has paled that sunny sky;
Echoes fade and memories die;
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream
Lingering in the golden gleam
Life, what is it but a dream?

1872, Lewis Carroll

 

No reason to explain why

There’s a concrete parking lot, cracked and with weed forming on the sides.
There’s a first floor classroom, crowded, cold and unfamiliar;
the people in it untrustworthy, suspicious, and dangerous. Sounds of machine carpentry on a summer day, mechanical, penetrating, uncomfortable. The smell of roadkill, toxicity, and cancer. A feeling of repetition, limbo, unwanted loneliness and fear.
Ninety degrees Fahrenheit nights, and waking up with anxiety.
Herd of delusional people. People who talk but say nothing meaningful, who live a routine lifestyle, and laugh without luster in their eyes. People who have it all together; acceptable personality, perfect family, work like a mule, and party when appropriate. People who expect the same from everyone. People and their generic, packaged, and automated versions of happiness. Feeling of distrust, loneliness, and coldness,
and there’s no reason to openly explain why.

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We meet again

gatsby

We meet again. You in your grandeur, your hairs encircling jewels and the flowers beside you boom, understated… by the brilliance that is you.
It is odd isn’t it, that I see you here. You didn’t expect me. But you make me chuckle; do you really find it that strange?
Drenched in the rain my body drips anguish and blood. Sweat from all the worthless work I did to be here, so that I, one day can stand a stranger in front of you.
You by your flowers,
And I
Bleeding.
And you find it strange don’t you…

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