I lay there, just counting the spots on the ceiling,
reflecting upon this remote little feeling.
I toss in the bed and I try now to slumber,
but sleep will not come to me; sleep never does.

I try to stand straight but I notice I'm leaning.
I'm speaking these words and I don't know their meaning.
A smile is forming without any reason;
to keep up appearances, no clue to why.

I ask if you know where the keys are a hanging.
“They’re hung by the door,” as the fireworks are banging.
Explosions are filling my head like a thunder,
And sleep will not come to me; sleep never does.

I wake from the tossing and turning and dreaming.
The sunlight reflects off the moon and it’s beaming.
I look at her, smile, and I know there’s no treason.
Such happiness fills me and sleep comes at last.

Social relations.
     Fading, dissipating.
           Regenerated and rebuilding.

Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.
     Talking of brighter days with different time lines.

Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.
          All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.

                     It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.
        When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.
               Anything to fill this  void.

   The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings.
Constantly picking at the scab.
          Digging for one last laugh.
                                        A final smile.
                       The perfect ending for the night we might forget.

      We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates.
Evolutionary socialization.
            Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.

                         Open eyes burning for something tangible.
                 Awake and unaware.

       Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius.
Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.

   We speak of ideas.
     We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.
        We dream of what it is and what it could be.

All seeking growth.
      All staying just within the caution tape.

Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.
                                               I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.
                       My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.

     In the end it's just another day.
                              Contributions minimal.
                 Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.
        They're Remnants.

I thought I saw you

before I saw you.

I thought I felt the wind

grace the back of my neck

like

Whispers tempered with speeches,

waiting. 

Those, thoughts that played against my mind

Like a memory that served purpose years ago.

You carried through me like the river.

In and out,

Back and fourth.

Mud stuck to the bottoms of my feet,

I rinsed them in the cool stream of your reminders.

Were you real?

As real as I am.

And although I dreamed these things,

You confirmed each line I came to remember.

There was that silence that Bumped along your hips

like,

Stars in the sky and the forest of trees

behind the house you grew up in.

Was it a dream,

was it a stitched together

like the meandering waterfall,

its roaring voice too loud to hear the tickling of that cold water.

When I took my shoes off and jumped in,

 naked and full of fear,

and you held me close.

You said with your voice I heard as harmonics,

I’m right here.

I’m right here.

And I let my body lay against yours,

 like I had done it a thousand times,

and told you to come to bed.

 Your flesh was like the mountains I visited as a child.

Dips and canyons engraved upon my minds eye,

my fingers laced against the curves of your essence.

And I breathed your name like it was a lullaby.

I let you break every barrier I had ever built

Within the those moments of bodies melting, becoming one.