You've been walking
in the same space
at the same pace
for days it seems,
or is it years now?
It makes no difference–
too afraid to pinch
and perhaps wake up,
or even worse
realize there's nothing to
wake up from.
It does not feel like real life
so far from home, far
from the tangibles that
once played strict boundaries
on your existence.
Every step you take
the dream becomes the truth
and your old life
fades from reality toward
memory–
still hoping to wake
and be home again,
back in an old city,
an old time,
with old friends–
maybe a beach in Fiji
with Kristine Kochanski
laid out beside you.
Seems like thats
how things should be.
Seems like thats the
reality
you had in store,
not tucked away
under smokescreen skies,
alienated and alone.
New friends and
New places
that are beginning to lose
that New car smell.
Pinch me please.
Pinch me,
you are asking
harder, harder,
again, again–
"Once more,"
you're begging.
This can't be it
*******,
it can't be all
there is,
you'll wake up
you have to
one of these days.
Or is it years
now?