Make believing frees me from time. Time that
bends me over and branches its entire world into me.
Blow after blow, I feel the freedom it grants and
with one mere test, it ties me to a rope and leaves me
there to hang.

It chokes me, ya know what I'm saying?
When it wraps its bony little fingers over me
Trying to stroke some fucking meaning into me.
And why the loss of words? and why the nonexistent
ideas, where the hell is the muse before me.
I know it's there but hidden in the depth
Of this soul, and why can't I imagine, and

Where are all the lost dreams?

Where are all the lost moments?

Where are the beings that bruise their sadness
inside of my brain, they still remain?

Yes. they are still there but have a loss for words.
 

Kelly C. O'Donnell
©2000