Blooming Eternity

As I awake in the night like the blooming flowers of spring I am torn from the depths of this never ending dream.
As I awake to the echoes of the rising sun I am time and time again melancholic, I miss the night during the day and miss the day during the night.
I awake to my cruel mind begging for torture, 
begging for madness, 
begging for wickedness,
sometimes I feel possessed by something, some force of nature grander than my own, 
sometimes I laugh at any ideas dealing with the supernatural (especially those of god) but as my laughter dies and the silence thickens I once again am forced to take to heart these phantom words.
I awake at night to a dreadful wave of existentialism, I look for some meaningful memory but find that they all morph together as the past, the same forgotten faces fading into the eternal dust storm.
I awake in the night with the music of dead poets playing in my head
“Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows.”
It is with this empty stomach that I have crossed barriers of humanity, it is with this transcendental soul that I have pushed reality to the limits of sanity, one last level remains, the one you don’t come back from,
just hold onto the dream
for when it fades away
so too do you.
I awake from a dream which was more real than reality itself, a whole world which only existed in the projections of my mind, so I look around me, I touch my record player, I touch my soft cock, I touch my clothes, I touch my guitar, it’s all so similar, that dream and this dream, I am eternity and I know this, I have lived too many lives and tonight I starve at the feet of the stars and ask for mercy, how long will this circle continue to twirl eternity?
I awake tonight as Jose Flores, an endless mirror shows me this man in his endless interpretations, in life we must certainly live but in death we are allowed to vanish for a slight moment, I look forward to this moment for once the clock resets, so too does this life.
I create now with the multitude of my many forgotten lives, my art serves only as a wall between me and death, a hollow casket of colors and galaxies, a blood soaked blanket which calms my rotting heart.