In the quiet
I hear the mumbling sounds of muffled words
The voices of strangers
Not close enough to understand
But the vibration
The tinkering richness that comes from spoken word
Flicker across the drum
Quick
Like sounds of life outside a car window
It vanishes
He hears it too, shooting off
A rocket across the bed
His soul green eyes flinging off the light of headlights
Ears stretched wide
It comes again
My mind straightens up
The body ridged..
Hoping to hear that mad sound again
Wanting it to make sense
Like so many t.v. shows
Debunk the mystery..
It does not return..and only the goose flesh
Plus the sentry movement of yet another feline convinces me it was real..

I feel as though I am walking
Though my steps I cannot see
No direction
No center
A path uncertainty
A circle
A  square
No shape I can discern
I feel as though I'm walking
But is it forward or back
In a life of lucid dreaming it's hard to keep track.

I wake from a dreamless sleep, or what I
think to be dreamless
Leaves a lingering feeling of terror, doubt, or anxiety
Like my mind doesn't want to deal with the left overs
So it cuts it off midway
Amputates the whole stream of thought
Till only whisps of what could have been remains
Behind forgotten like so many things in life
So many small moments that are not recorded or erased to save space
For what we think is important
Like numbers and codes to social media that if we are honest with ourselve
Doesn't make us feel anyless alone in our
Completely individual lives
That are copied and pasted from a mold of individuality.

The older I get the less real it feels.
Wanting to stay inside the realm of fiction
Where the world is harsh but hope is always on the horison
Where the hero always wins and adversity is mole hill
Not the mountain it is in life
But I wake back into the humble world of retail fog
Mucking through the day on pennies and dimes
Wishing that for a moment life was more of an adventure

2 am is here again
And yet not I go to sleep
Between the worried flies and dreaming cries
Restless I seem to be
The what ifs and could be's
Chase me around the room
And I find myself sinking further and further into an adult depressive loop.

Unlike when we were kids
When worries were solved by others
The panic power of the day to day tower
Of fears and aspirations
Keep most of us from our greatest potential
And consequently a good nights rest.

I feel like a flightless bird
But not a bird who has never known the gift of flight
But a fledgling watching others find wind
Sail off into their lives on the breeze of self discovery and settle into the waiting branches with comfortable niches
Like a wind of change swept free the debris of doubt
But here I sit on the same rock ledge trying to unfurl wings that creak with uncertainty
The mites of doubt creeping between each feather
Leaving holes to big to face the weather.

I like to watch the curl of smoke from between my lips
That dancing wave like movement floating listly up and away
Back and forth undulating to a song all its own
Majestic in its travel pulling with it the trouble
The doubt the pain
All the worry
Floats away.