I’ve gotten pretty good,
at tricking my self to sleep,
make believe i’m really tired,
and how i really want those dreams.
Everyone else is sleeping,
or trying to be awake,
but here i am now,
consciously alone.
The ambient noises,
and vibrant colors,
of shapeless existence,
and indeterminable wealth.
somber scents,
and weightless thoughts,
about heroes dead,
and gone.
As time slips by,
i am only aware,
as best i can be,
of these breaths.
As it is,
Inspiration being,
the only thing,
which hasn’t left this eve.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
I’ve gotten pretty good,
at tricking my self to sleep,
make believe i’m really tired,
and how i really want those dreams.
Everyone else is sleeping,
or trying to be awake,
but here i am now,
consciously alone.
The ambient noises,
and vibrant colors,
of shapeless existence,
and indeterminable wealth.
somber scents,
and weightless thoughts,
about heroes dead,
and gone.
As time slips by,
i am only aware,
as best i can be,
of these breaths.
As it is,
Inspiration being,
the only thing,
which hasn’t left this eve.
