Written by Isaac Izekor
Dreaming. Plays in my head like
Shakespearean romantics, fantastical narrative
gymnastics, tragic heroes with manic tendencies but a
kinship with the mania. To be steeped in blood my own shown
an end to the infinite wading shading life with the trivial. Dreaming.
Sometimes of lives not mine but that trivial shade blocks the shine, even
as I pine and search for meaning. Each other life is its own paid sentence
lived in pained silence while we all try to pave purpose. I am happiest
in my dreams. Imagined flights of fancy, fantasy and love but
nothing escapes the thrum, the eternal shade.