subject: dream shweet. (i hope)
time: 2:23am
music: my beautiful friend - guy sebastian
mood: insomniac.

The colors are brighter in blinding blackness. They shine with arrogance and occupy the day aimlessly, splashing bits of themselves onto a little bit of everything. A world canvas like street graffiti. And when I open my eyes again it is nightfall. This is how I tick the hours off the many clocks in my home.

When I sleep, I dream. Of poetics like tears from the moon falling down like rain.

Can't you see it?
I feel alive, divine.

There's a drought within my head that would put the driest desert to shame.
How long will this drought extend? i really don't know. time has taken on a completely different meaning. the allusions for it are no longer one and the same. they have become mismatched and vapid, like colors going to war with each other. meaningless and artless. Time no longer has a distinction.
it is everywhere at once and yet nowhere.
it is in the deja vus' that strike a million people within the same second.
they stop and question.

haven't I done this before?

i have been here before.

i've met you before.

They have. You have. We have.

we don't change. our selves remain constant through the years. circumstances change, habits change. dysfunctionality. that is what it is, this displacement that has left me neither here nor there, suspended in a writer's limbo. i have touched the extremes too often to know when i am standing on middle ground sandwiched between walls.

i.sleep.to.forget.