onetwothreefour
Bluelight Crew
figured it might be interesting to see what this recent sleep deprivation has been doing to my mind. this is the result of today's mind-fucking. i want to tighten it a bit though...
as always, criticism (both positive and negative
) is appreciated.
drifting through today i lumbered, lame, my brain in slumber
i'm surfing through the ages of a place ignored outrageous
my thoughts are filled with nought but sum
of a weekend just now wasted
and i can't recall passed time at all or if i even woke
perhaps i'm still asleep like alice, as hers' the hole seems deep
my dreams burn real though life feels sleep
a preference can't be tasted
for who can choose 'tween two worlds when vision sees them same
thoughts so lucid, sight transperant, i rub my eyes and see
that the living world is breathing in
an image just of me
the image real as real can be, my mind makes wont to steal it;
if i might own this real'st me, perhaps i could conceal it
from the eyes who reach with hands that gaze
for the image that i see
but if i worked to stop this plot asunder from its end
then am i back in limbo, a-sleeping wake a-dreaming state
i can't quite find the cure to this my life of truth
or maybe life of fiction
the question asked might help unmask a glimpse of one's own fate
but halfway hope stumbles and mopes; such a result's unfair
for its promised world unfurls instead
a doubt, its name affliction
as always, criticism (both positive and negative
drifting through today i lumbered, lame, my brain in slumber
i'm surfing through the ages of a place ignored outrageous
my thoughts are filled with nought but sum
of a weekend just now wasted
and i can't recall passed time at all or if i even woke
perhaps i'm still asleep like alice, as hers' the hole seems deep
my dreams burn real though life feels sleep
a preference can't be tasted
for who can choose 'tween two worlds when vision sees them same
thoughts so lucid, sight transperant, i rub my eyes and see
that the living world is breathing in
an image just of me
the image real as real can be, my mind makes wont to steal it;
if i might own this real'st me, perhaps i could conceal it
from the eyes who reach with hands that gaze
for the image that i see
but if i worked to stop this plot asunder from its end
then am i back in limbo, a-sleeping wake a-dreaming state
i can't quite find the cure to this my life of truth
or maybe life of fiction
the question asked might help unmask a glimpse of one's own fate
but halfway hope stumbles and mopes; such a result's unfair
for its promised world unfurls instead
a doubt, its name affliction

gillywin