My mother, who is obsessed with order, told me today -“Stop building castles from sand, it will only create waves of rage and drown you.” Dying inhaling my dreams sounds like a good escape to me. I built my castles of sand and it will not break, but fly with the wind and settle everywhere chaotically like petals do when seasons change.
I want my dreams to be everywhere and out of order. I’d rather drown in my beautiful dreams than to be choked with the bare hands of reality; the serial killer of love and fantasy. It is the air in this sick world that is suffocating, I’d rather drown my head in emotions which are carried under those overwhelming waves of rage.