The sun tipping over the horizon Lifts my lids each revolution of this Shady green sphere... And for a few brief seconds The fingers of sleep Drag me back.
Warm pressure on my eyes, Pooling, (re)opening them to the last Paradise; The only oasis where your eyes are not closed And your bones are not dust somewhere Mingling with the soil in Pittsburgh.
Just the same, I know you're the product now Of some hypnagogic state; Of the last traces of theoretical DMT swirling in my brain As is leaves Morpheus behind in the shadows.
You're just the most beautiful hallucination The truth in the chaos of dreams Cluing me into what I've been denying For 13 years.
Impossible that I've preserved you better Than any mortician could have In the recesses of my mind You are a perfect replica An unholy copy of the original All creamy skin And ocean eyes, Full-lipped smile tipping somewhere between Arrogance and joy.
"I'm gone," you say. "I'm dead." Repeating what I already know "I'm dead, I'm not coming back." On repeat like the worst kind of ear worm; A carousel of sound that dips and weaves through every filament of Unconsciousness.
Denial; like reaching out my hands I shove against the reality, against the unreality Against the prison sleep has woven And crash forth Damp and gasping Like breaking the surface once more Teetering over the horizon with the sun Into the waking hell of another day.
The carousel makes another revolution. See you on the other side tonight.