Still Dreaming

I want to lay down under a warm summer sun while gazing at the clouds, a joint in one hand and a book in the other. Complimented by loud 80s music (preferably Phil Collins), a delicate female lover by my side and flocks of birds flying over my head.

I want a secluded wooden cabin where I can quietly sip my pea protein shake and discuss Nietzsches philosophy with a hazel haired beauty that has a penchant for getting lovingly choked.

I want children to reject consumerism and embrace physical culture. I want my little brothers to hunt more snails instead of playing FIFA. I want my cousins to do pull ups, not eat soy and learn some Muay Thai.

I want society to truly allow people to be themselves instead of saying it’s okay and then vilifying them at the first sign of trouble.

I want governments to not be ran by malicious reptilians who assassinate critics and help old creeps kidnap children.

I want to be able to sleep at night.

I want to make it past 21.

Dreaming.

3:30 AM.

Still dreaming.

Forever dreaming.

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