Long hours forgotten in sheets of paper,
A better bottle, more for nothing:
Lost saints and false idols,
Iconoclastic Oddfellows -- strange masters bellow
Shows of blue smoke and mirrors, a dream
At Bradbury's 2 am, shared nightmares
Ending all the same way, with no
Connection to be known except the lack of sleep.

Making the long drive, ending in your arms,
No direction except for tiredness, no
Autumn except for slotted time,
No finished books, only started stories,
Just a taste of dry leaves, dryheaves, and delerious summer eves.

My middle name is sleep, and I will dream
In wakeness as easily as with my eyes closed.
But sometimes the best answers lie
On the backs of your eyelids.
Read carefully.

The sun blocks the darkness from entering
The fun blocks the pain of nowness
The cast grays blocks  the blues of the smiles

The dark skin blocks the center the blacks, blues
The warmth blocks the freezing cold bitterness
The ignorance blocks the peace of painless

The eyes block the center of reality
The canvas block the passion of weakness
The hands block the closeness of grace

The heart blocks the sins of giving
The wakeness blocks the guilty of staying
The chair blocks the truth of the past

The creatures block the cup of fullness

The moon keeps my secrets in a glass jar
In the silence taking over my hurt as it's scar.

Where the words of my lips fall prey to the silence, let their taste be my expression.
Like the rowdy kids of the block, doing more trouble and less learning their lesson.

I'd like to think of myself as so on many off days.

So call security for my heart's front gate. I feel the Devil peeping in.
What's he searching for at the corners of my love. I feel the evil sinking in.

A strange to say I've been here before but I'd hate to repeat myself.

A device to say like my phone's constant beeping at early hours,
Rewarding my heart for good deeds but men don't do pretty flowers

In the wakeness of new dawn, I still wish to be fast asleep
And perhaps I've strayed from the flock like the poor lost sheep.

For Love as my only defense across the broken wall,
Hitting rock bottom before I made the fall.

At a corner of regret and hopes,  I'm stuck at crossroads
Figuring the tune of the song with lost chords.

La di di da to a same old song.
Who really knows the words that well to be singing along.

You were there in the driver's seat of memories,
Inching your way through the roads and side streets of life,
Through laughters and chaos and the dull traffic lights.
Witness to the rising and falling of the heavens,
And ears to the after-midnight realizations of men.
Radiant in your losing and finding,
The transient souls passing the doors of your wakeness.
And the sun and rain and hail and the gusts of wind never breaks,
The soul that keeps you alive O' old glory.
Now, as the moments pass from finitude into infinity
When the frantic going turns into a deep peaceful sleep,
May your twilight be as colorful as the red sun's mirage over the horizon,
And may your dreams be as animated as your waking life!

Sometimes I'd cheat on myself just to get the feel,
Pinch myself if I'm dreaming to feel what's real.

And I can't deny
How often I'd fall quick to lie.
Still I try the best to move past that. I do try.

While acting camera shy
Behind the lens I'll often cry
I can't deny.

While the days will wait on my arrival,
They'll wait that long enough it's best to idle.
For I spent most time designing myself by vinyl.

By then pinch me if I'm dreaming that often. But I'll pray never to wake.
For the Lord's sake
Add more flavor to my self raising Heart to then bake.

Pinch me then
If the first pinches aren't working that much. We're probably by ten.
Still I'll pray never to wake by then.

I'll ignore the hurt,
Pray for wakeness to be foreign to me.
By then
We'll be at this course of this dream  once again.
Try me that much and I'll show you what's the True worth.

As I slumber, dreaming upon many things
Building upon my inner thoughts.
Seeking for myself across these dreams.

Fictual ideas I do say.

I slept across the early morning
Waiting upon another day to arrive as the day was dawning.
In my dreams I find myself hiding
Subsiding upon wakeness from the lack of sleep it's providing....

Often the real Truth of my pain is that denying.
Given the chance of many split end dreams to be only yet dividing.

My common denominator is not as inspiring
But I'm perhaps lying.

For in my fictual nightmares I'm liken to play a villain
Who sits on a high chair looking down upon peasants. Holding the world through his fingers.
I admit the idea feels quite thrilling.

Yet I'm forced to play a fool in the realms of reality
Basically denying my crave as a man yearning to conquer.
Living life carefree,
Yet they wonder why I wish to sleep across the nights so much longer.

But there is no bother,
I take my long sleeps as a basis to discover.
Who the man inside of me is destined to be....
When all the young eyes will look my way and only see ME.

Soon  they'd know what beckons through my fictual nightmares, the never-ending story
Acting as the animal claiming his mark while marking his territory.

Wishing not been seen as weak,
And if sleeping across several nights builds up on my strength
Shall I not sleep across an entire week.