Story Book Forrest

the waking world has no kind of clarity

unshakeable decisions almost a rarity

an unhealthy kind of specialty

shutting off this insipid reality

Wait for the sky’s fall to capitalize its reverie

inherent understanding found only when sleeping

intuition shrouded in mystery so defeating

ideas drenched in ego habitually repeating

An agreeable cognition is still so fleeting

dream states like a story book forest

static details cause constant distress

maps and directories can’t tell what’s best

a restless mind that hunts for rest