a story in progress

I stood up last night.Thinking of the past,present and future.It was so clear to me back then.The talk on so-called-self righteousness and integrity.Now I wonder-are they but noises made by a hallow tin?

The feeling that I once so sought after-Is it but a fool's act of chasing a fleeting shadow?Ever elusive,ever baffling.It signifies the ignorance set within myself, telling me how little I know, how I yearned for the unthinkable.Till it become nothing more than a mad desire burning within me.Consumed by it.Blinded by passion.

I should have know better than to put my faith on dreams.Dreams-they are meant to be nothing more but dreams.A hallow embodiment of a human's mad desire and lust.As immaculate as they may seem, they are in fact blotched beyond recognition.

It is ironic, to think that dreams are often the other end of reality.Ever present, ever contradictory.You do not need a reason to dream yet at the same time you feel the fear of the ever harsh reality.