Every Dress Has iTs Purpose

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What can you
tell
From a look?
At just a glance.

Your vast array of
different images,
Has
left me In a comatose like trance.

Thirsty is
My desert mind,
So Inspiration
Makes no concrete plans.

Love
I’m a victim to,
Luckily my Obsessions
Hardly last.

Unless
Well preserved away
Most distractions
(like hard times)
Eventually
They come to pass.

Those suspicious looks
that are of you
Have me breathless
With no firm grasp,

Of what is honestly reality
Since you shape
And shift
Like desert sands.

Further fanning
The flames
Of my terrorist aim
Since we both so easily adapt…

But you with those eyes
That tell a different tale
With every bat
Of a lash,

Has me both intrigued
And confused
By this
schizophrenic Clash.

Who are you?
What do you want?
And what’s really
Behind majoras mask?!

I don’t want to be Lied to
Yet I want more
Of these hallucinations
As if 6 months deep into a fast…

With so much
Smoke in my eyes ,
It’s getting
really hard to see.

The similarities
in all that is made up
Makes me loath
the fine lines of fantasy.

If hopes
Were points
How many tokens
Would it take to make belief?

And if iT makes
Enough sense
Would you care to visit
That world as a we?

I’m skeptical,
But open minded,
When it comes
To sandbox dreams.

I’m no interpreter
Just a silver surfer
In metaphorical
Seas.

I’d very much
Would love to crash the waves
Of what common knowledge
Claims can’t be.

If only
for a night.
Just to see
What we see.

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  1. Makes one wonder about the mind control some have over others by their shape shifting.

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