I need... no.
I want to stay awake.
I want to talk to him,
Imagine him.
But I'm slipping.

Is it possible to be sleep-intolerant?
Not insomnia, just intolerant.
I want to be.
I'd accomplish so much!
I'd write,
Read,
And imagine my love holding me.

Of course, I'd miss my dreams,
But, in this reality, I'm also
*Living one.

I continue to wonder
If it was too much.
The emotions were intense,
Driven by instinct,
Pleasure, Fire.

*Was it a mistake?

It's not just mine.
There are differences, yes,
But it is still the same.
The words tell stories.
Possibly of caves or black holes,
Vines or the moon,
The meanings hidden from you.
It all connects, somehow.

The human experience continues
To be revealed.
More.
More is happening,
And everyone has their own words.
Some are the same as mine.

Some just need to tell. To get into peoples heads.
Some are healing themselves.
Some, like me, are searching. Wanting to be fully understood.

But, somehow, it all connects.
It is all the same.

It is increasing.
Pain. Physical. Mental.
Should I regret it?

threetypes:mentalpainfulbeautiful

toomanythingsinthisworlddisappointme