Float

Float this way brethren, for I have wonderful teeth and my spectre is of milky sheets, clean against your skin, reality is elsewhere, this childish frippery is an illusion, calm, calm yourselves, you are not a hollow mechanical machine empty of organs and cold, that is everybody else, you are different, like a Christ shaped pattern.
Float around this dead star of my shadowy blot, in your dreams I murdered your future with my imagination and your head contained my fame that wasn't even your intention, because there was no motive, but the crime was so perfect, that you killed me with my own imagination and after that you died from reality.
Float towards naked when you wear it all, that's the way it is now, gone, gone, you have gone, your flesh is what you wear, everyday, you were inside, somewhere, before, but you're teeth are wonderful and your dress sense always followed by a tick, as your network connects and your wireless world follows your name like an apparition.
Float to where you have too much, you are not a reflection, but a screen splaying outwards octopus like, you are homogeneous and I am your receptacle, the city is your facial expression creating new paths and disputes of ownership, there is nothing and you are the buildings shaking on the water.   

Freedom

There's a freedom somewhere that needs an invitation to my soul, because at present there is nothing, an empty bowl, a room bereft of guests; even silence stays away. Tonight I'm not drunk, but the words are stuck regardless; there's no one to tell you how to live but that voice inside which belongs to someone else and laughs at your actions when your back is turned. So it carries on, I carry on, sleep, wake, boredom, lethargy, sleep, wake, boredom, lethargy, sleep... Yes folks, I've learnt an important lesson, I'm now one of you and I know why you're scared, I know why you do it, why you showed such awe when I used to announce my bohemian status at parties before the change occurred. I know, but I still feel the disgust, for you fear losing something, letting go to the thing that you will never get back. 'I would but, but, but...money, money, money', the joke is that thing you are so scared of losing or leaving behind, is something you don't have anyway, you cling to nothing; pleasure awaits and that scares you more than the trudge through your lonely days, your moaning, your petty annoyances are the stilts that hold your world in place, so live on my friends, keep balancing on those struts because I'm there with you for now.  Will I be there for long? who knows, but there is a scream within me that says not much longer, but maybe you are the same.

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother..."

How to escape, this is my question? I feel the fear, but I know, above all else, I must break out.