UTOPIA

How low can you go? How deep are you willing to swim and search for all that you need to know? What are we waiting for, or the better question is, who? I have a handful of gold in my hand, and I am counting the other fish inside this florescent bowl getting drunk on other people's spirits waiting in line, so my story can be told.

I am climbing ant hills that once I thought to be mountaintops wanting more and never knowing how to stop. Too many lies, not enough truths until now with the promises that I kept and the lessons that I learned

How can I ask without knowing that it is no longer a feeling but a look I wear on my face? What am I doing to be a saint when everyone wears a mask out of fear of being a sinner in this land of make-believe places? A place that the mind will soon erase to replace with a vision of utopia