I wish I could lie.
I’d paint the sky green
and mix water and fire.
I’d fall up a flight of stairs
or tell a joke to a thousand scares.
Instead, I have the truth.

I wish I could write.
I’d construct pictures with words
and tell captivating stories.
I’d pen an epic novel
and make my fortune with some ink.
Instead, I have the truth.

I wish I could think.
I’d converse with intellects
and challenge them on philosophical topics.
I’d marry a smart woman
and have a crèche of smart children.
Instead, I have the truth.

I wish I could tell a story
about a man who lives alone,
surrounded by walls of thunder and rain.
He’d have a shit job,
no wife, no money, no life.
He’d lose hours upon hours
staring at a flickering computer screen
wishing for a friendly phone call
to invite him out somewhere nice.
Instead, I have me.
Nothing more, nothing less.
This is beautifully written. Very poetic. I really liked the contrast to the imagery in the first stanza and the rawness of the last. Very well written
That's incredibly well written! I enjoyed reading that, and later I may just read it again nice job!
Welcome back.

Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black
Kinda definitely not your best thing I've ever read. Predictable, and a little tedious in the way it was told, imho.

All the same, you're here, we're queer, we don't want any more bears.

Bring on the goblins and pixies.