from by Dylan Wolfram

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I often tell myself
that I should have
gotten up and left here, while I could;
but then again, I come to think that
it’d be of no use,
as when I lay to sleep,
I always end up back at the same place.

I’ve gotten used to its environment
and learned to refer to it
as a second reality or a second home
after the so many times it has accommodated me
When I lay to sleep
I always end up at the same place
in my house, sat on the couch
on a regular day, of a regular week
of an average month
in Hell,
with a mind filled with dead dreams,
tons of apathy resting on my chest,
and a cup of whiskey in hand
just like everyone else there.

But, I want to be frank with you,
about what stirs my emotions
and stamps this environment
with the gracious label of

it’s not the dark blue mantle
blanketing the sky for as far as the eye can see
it’s not the bleak eeriness of the society
it’s not the
dominant presence
of absence of
any feeling
but nothingness,
or the bellows of the
damned and doomed
suffering in agony
in the middle of the night
when everyone’s asleep

what makes it so hair raising
is that the ads on T.V
are the same with the ones
one would watch
in our shared reality.

With the people constantly being reminded
that net worth
is more important
than self-worth

So, with fear I realize
that sometimes
the only difference
between Hell and reality
must be in the weather.


from Bellows, released February 19, 2017



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Dylan Wolfram Athens, Greece

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