::02:25:08::

::: Being Planted Inside :::

Visions of danger fracture my dreams sending shards of glass through random scenes. I run and hide, never escaping the evil authority that knows me better than it should.
Innocence lost but I reflect on a time before the wool was pulled back revealing the sky. Endless possibilities came at a price and I scrambled to pay nothing less would suffice.
Blindly I pushed and smiled to get inside of this big mysterious tent, I rushed in with pride. The room is crowded but nobody notices when I make my big entrance slipping into the fog.
Everybody was awake but their minds where sleeping and their eyes were glossy and glazed. I soon forgot how weird it felt as I found my place and froze just in time to melt.
People would enter but nobody would leave, maybe they did as I hit my brow with my sleeve. This place was explained to let free your mind, but the freedom was false as few would find.
We were herded together labeled and tagged, dangerous minds whose evolution was snagged. The door are open and never tended, yet everyone stays, bridges of thought never mended.
It is safe in here like the mother’s womb, but stay too long and this place becomes a tomb. People outside beg and they plead, but how can they know if they never bleed.
The pain isn’t here it comes with change and shaking off the dust that gathered feels strange. Hurting yourself to open your eyes, feeling the pain to remember you’re alive.
Both sides have their slips and their slides, but the exciting one has all the real rides. Out there, you need to please on looking glances, in here they don’t even give you the chances.
I felt like this was a way of protesting, the way the world runs is absolutely disgusting. Starving your mind is starving your soul, and living that way has eased my cart into a roll.
Moving this slow is better than being planted inside so I learn how to steer and enjoy the ride. Creativity needs experience to draw its new boundaries, and courage to strike a new course.
I feel the pulse inside me growing stronger with force, thunderous stomping hooves of a horse. The noises are loud and the colors are bright, blood-stained earth from the ensuing fight.
I will die when all is said and done, if I sweat, cry and bleed then I will know that I’ve won. Because laying down and closing your eyes, is giving up and feeding your own demise.

Written by: ~ Russell B. Long