Bliss By Gilbert Ortiz Jr.
I dream of I dream of I dream of I dream of I dream of
crisp cold gale gliding against the arms of trees crystal clear water thrashing against hardened rock angelic flowers in the night, dancing with the rain cotton clouds bouncing above all else stunning stars gleaming, like little souls in the night
Every morning I rise to the perfect sunset, its gorgeous pink haze is eye candy to me I dash out of my house, perfect plump clouds paving the way. I frolic around, finally rolling down a field of dandelions. All unaffected by my brash movements. The air in my world is pure, not a single puff of albuterol entering my corrupted lungs. My slide ends as I meet my humble oak dock. The dock is just high enough so my legs can freely dangle off As I take in the sight, some– thing takes hold of me. Dragging me into the Depths Below. In a cold sweat, I wake to charcoal air, slowly scorching all who take it I wake to chaotic crackling, tools shattering our world until it’s in shambles I wake to desperate tears, dripping from the sky followed by violent shrieks of light I wake to desecrated daisies, their little, feeble bodies crushed under our heels I wake to the static of love tainted by the drog of everyday life The air in our world is poison, you can’t go a block without smelling smoke Nobody is happy either, there’s always suffering and there’s 25
