Exhume

You've been dreaming, I told myself last night.

I shouldn't be so foolish, don't be so blind, to think , no, you're right.

If we were awake this world wouldn't be so domesticated like sheep sleep at night.

Hungry for more all the time lost in a conclusion as the weak grow only to become weak again.

This pencil drives my thoughts, this pencil speaks. 

Everytime it moves I too get exhumed

Every new breath becomes new, because I can finnaly see and not be fooled.

Why can't everyone else awake, why should i carry this weight?

These boxes, these porptionally rationalized unstable boxes, they consume more than they led on,

What's worse is we've resigned before we even began,

This has become life. It's a dream. This is why I write.