Now I lucid dream, the only time or place I have to courage to jump and feel the weight of gravity pulling my down to the freshly painted sidewalk or the bitter sweet bite of a noose suspending me from the ground as if a gentle dance partner taking my hand in theirs to the world of freedom beyond. Regardless of the method post mortem I find happiness, lucid dreaming of rain falling through my palms and people walking through my bones and never once seeing a person stop to question my broken, bloody, hanging lifeless body as if it simply needed to be. My hollow corpse as commonplace as a stop light at an intersection. Not a single person can ask me questions or motivate me to change, I can simply hang and be free on broken wings made of childhood dreams sold to me by the people who told me I could be …show more content…
I wonder if everyone feels that their best dreams are when they die at the end and the hardest part of dreaming is waking to find a world your powerless to love or change. I wonder if everyone hears voices in their ears as they attempt to fight back tears laying on fire, naked having kicked the covers to the side as they only aid misery in her attempt to boil them alive as if punishment for the crime of trying to sleep another night and pass to another worthless day where everything grows a little more grey and every breath you take feels more shallow than the last if you think about them for too long. I just need to die asleep on a normal night and have my body found by those who never knew me and fade from my family's memory instantly because misery in the face of my final ending is not needed for this story to continue. That of a killed off character or a scraped subplot is much more fitting for anyone like