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Overdose Reality
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Feel the rush of the wind against your face
That mind accelerating clarity,
That sweet solemn calming embrace
A fraction of time where questions
And thought,
Are lost like when the playful sun
Kills the last deathly kiss of pale winter frost
Yet all it feels like fiction,
When heads are hung in solitude,
Depressed under artificial light,
Feelings are supressed,
Objectives are dictated
Developed,
A rampant breeding ground for spite
Craved moments drift in swirls of intoxication
Blessed seconds,
When we dont realise who we are.
Removing ourselves further from reality
By releasing our minds to the irregular.
Aspiration seems the only savior from iteration
Only purpose of the mind saves us from such repitition
Invisible targets for which we shoot and speculate
We can either overcome our fears and grasp at the setting sun
Or grovel at the skies when its all too late.
For lack of determination and the ills of society
Are truely the cancer of all but every mind and scenario
Cackling adversities till we feel deaths friendly embrace.
And so its with such a sigh and anticipation
That I succumb to that moment of removal
That sudden lack of conformity
Soaring with the plunging will of gravity
I take seven steps forward
And Overdose Reality.
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© Owen Waldron. 2008
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