on the verge of sleep i am an artistic genious
sometimes too lazy to get up
and jot down this masterpiece
hoping the words will still be there when i wake
even though they never seem to be
or never were as good as i think i remember
halfway between being awake and unconcious
is like the montage of a spirit quest
halfway between reality and my subconcious
is where everything is connected and makes sense
halfway between the past and the future
where she was in my arms
and i could feel her heart beating
in a split second i can go from being warm and content
to cold and alone
when i wake with a start i can still feel them
they were just here a second ago
there is that split second on panic
where my heart cedes to logic
how long was ago was it?
seconds/minutes/hours/days/weeks/months/years?
dreams are cruel in their execution
when they have no concept of time
slumber is visiting hours
for the prison of your soul
where the things you can't let go of are locked away
whethere you want them to be or not
