Reality creaps up on us

	open doors, to lolipop floors. spiked with sugar cane glass. through liquorish light. the darkest night, rips to reveal the rotting mass. i cannot see as i'm asleep, away in candyfloss land. bur reality keeps seeping into my cloud, keeps seeping up through the sand. it pops up into my fairytale beach, and my sea turns crimson read. and the waves crash down while im fast asleep till reality has drowned me dead. I'm not too sure what inspired me to write this poem, I can only interpret it as my own perception of false happiness, and the things we try to cover through are goals in life, like money or love, like the type of dreams and aspirations we use as a blanket to cover all our dirty secrets, and bitterness. I feel like if we keep building on top of a rotting foundation of consciousness, and do not sort out those problems, like the type of infliction others have caused, or the infliction we have put upon others, then everything, the most intricate of problems we haven't resolved will come back to haunt us.