It's snowing outside my car windows.
Inside, my mind is racing, thinking.
A white world is swallowed in icy mist.
And I'm starting to realize something I've always known.
The ice is glittering, taking the world in a grasp of death;
a reflection of an icy princess inside my head.
Like a pack of wolves, the mist moves past my windshield,
And I think I'm generating the world outside.
There are a lot of faces I can remember like marble; Are they
No, they're toys of my imagination.
I look in my shader mirror and see a handsome European face, toughened
by two days' stubble.
Yes, the world's a flock of servants who will do what I say; do what I
I'm drinking a cup of coffee and my blood is pulsing faster through my
Is reality a mere reflection of my imaginary picture world?
There's a beautiful girl I know and I'm thinking of her now.
But the angelic face I'm seeing is her image in my head, not her.
Did she create my memory of her or did it create her?
I've read so many books and run so many thoughts through my mind.
Now the thoughts are rising, rioting angrily for their freedom from
In view of my parked car, a ragged coyote paws anxiously at the snowy,
In my imagination, a huge white lion with a unicorn's horn protruding
from his furry snout stands on two monstrous feet and howls fiercely at
the full moon.
The coyote tenses slightly in the snowy field and his fur sticks up on
He sniffs hungrily at the wind, trying to zone in on a small
The lush, wild jungle of my imagination is appearing around me.
In the distance, I can hear the howl of the white lion.
Confidently, I wave goodbye to the coyote. I think, "I'll slash the
chains of reality and let them fall like jungle vines at my feet;
They're not real."