Talking to myself

Talking to myself very awkwardly i realize boy! You are ......... (still looking for a word)............
damn it!
i got to start all over again.

I lived a day in a dream. A dream where i was old. Old enough to call myself really old.
I feel fine. i do. no kidding. Feel a bit heavy on my buttocks but then guess i am old.
I am resting on a chair and i feel good but a little heavy inside. but! Am i really old?
I opened my eyes but they tricked me. i looked around and it was a beautiful day again.
I could feel the misty morning wind flirting with my ears and sway over the neck again.
I was missing something. smell? touch? a ......? a desire? passion? love? No idea again.
A mystery surrounded the heart. I gave it a thought but then it just mocks me every time.
A feeling took my eyes across the porch behind the tulips and the mystery unlocks in time.
A woman just made my heart skip its beat again. I have fallen for this smile every time.
A game i have played everyday with myself from the past 40 years. She wins it every time.
A tear rolled down my eye and i felt something. i seem to be good at it. lose Every time!
A moment i spent celebrating her win again and i feel weird now? something is wrong....

The next moment i woke up i was in my room and realized i was dreaming. i can still feel it.
i have always felt like this but never thought about it. why do i feel the very same now?
i know it now. i will never be complete without you. I still fall for your smile every time.
Talking to myself very awkwardly i realize boy! You are .........

Not again.....

Talk to me...

I am lost again. Somebody, please find me.
The mirror streets, they all look the same.
On the sidewalk, people lay rocked with me,
it itches, like a needle in the heart to see
humans behave like animals all the time...
Some push, some kick, some break and some kill.
times its wondering how we are lost on the road.
the fields look nakedly clear brown to the eye
i asked a man why is everything so blurry and dry?
he stared and left me wondering alone here away,
far away from the dreamland in the real reality.
As i move on and try to understand my surroundings
i have been gathering dry moss and paper rings.
Dry moss makes me feel how timid and sticky i am
under the open skies and across the horizon.
the paper rings hurt the most without a doubt,
they breach in and the poor honest is forced out.
Women sleeping on the beds of nails in pain i hear
while their men fighting for the false pride i see.
there i see the bridge ends with a head running ire.
i have been there, seen it all. i need to tell somebody
i cross the bridge and i am again in my dreamland
the feigned calm and beauty has chained me again
i want to talk to somebody before i get lost again.