these dreams

this mind soars amongst many dreams


and they come in such excess

in such a multitude

that some are barely given a thought 


despite this

my imagination continuously labors

through fits of passion

and lulls of judgment

over many fanciful muses


wading through ideas of

absolute necessity

and superfluous fantasies


all of which appear as strokes of utter genius 

but doubt only convinces

that their worth amounts to no less than

a routine dunce's illusion



this mind always travels amongst many dreams




i am consumed by these spiraling dreams


by the fact

that are supposed to define my worth


the question is constant

and the answer, variable

it's not like it's worth it, right?


i am valuable enough to be invested in

and given instruction


i am devoured by beautiful images of success


so much so

that these feet rarely reach the ground



foot is ultimately met with such a terra firma



these limbs lose the confidence required

to effectively capture even two of those

flitting delusions




maybe because


it's not like it's worth it, right?


for how will your fruitless aspirations

ever live up to the

overwhelming expectation

of your future?



i suppose it's true

that the future theoretically does not need my input



i refuse to accept

such a bleak fate


no matter how useless my dreams may be to you


they are worth just as much as

your practicalities

in this young world of ambiguities

and innovation


at least in this mind floating among dreams


and it will never rest

as long as their is something new

to explore

that acts as a catalyst

of varied perception


and by extension


amongst a new world


never underestimate

your dreams

no matter how fleeting they seem


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