Tick tock
And the days pass by.
What am I doing
But letting it.
Some call it depression.
I called it an impasse
All the pawns are set to place
No one moves
And no one gets hurt.

But I linger in my bed
Half asleep, half awake
As your scent passes
Through the hallways of my memory.
Or is it my insanity?
The warmth of hands caressing me
And children singing
Of the sleeping beauty.

Am I asleep, awake or just crazy?
There is only so many closets to clean
Yet mine just keep pouring
Their quite strange contents.
I woke up unable to move mostly
My arm slowly rising in the air
As though I was to touch the ceiling
And the voice of a polite little boy
“When you come down
We’d like to know how you’ve come to levitate”
The memory of the will to kiss him
We were only children...
Children’s dreams...

Yet I still have no wings to fly
And the child within me must obey.
People don’t really fly, do they...?