Dreams out weigh my harsh reality
From my visions,
I wish you could see me in my sleep
So why would I want to wake up
To the ugliness of this world, fuck.
I’d rather stay under my rock
and keep delivering you this art hop.
“Cold World, High Hopes”
My definition, my motto.
I don’t always think before I talk,
But I surely think before I write,
Pen, Pencil, or Chalk
Learning my goals, morals,
and ethical virtue as I draw words
that form into my walks.
Words never come empty though
Some come with pure emotions,
Causing my bipolar expressions,
Irony is this shit keeps me stable
When people try to tear me down
When people try to turn my existence
into a fable,
I reverse the power to my persona
and remain able to keep dreaming.

2015 Copyright @ H.M. Gautsch