Escaping behind my lids,
This is the only calm and solace,
Mind's racing for your bid,
Only empty-counter loveless.
Immobile in this tranquil feeling,
Pictures running in your head
Stories of the future, past, and teeming,
To relay themselves happily to bed.
Now prying out this hole,
Shaken back into "reality"
Existing the pure entity of a mole,
Is living what proves humanity?
With these naked eyes
What is viewed on the surface?
What possessions are really mine
Blurry visions are man-made.
My hands are empty now
Useless to this pick and ax
These creations don't deserve a wow
The thoughts that these create me are relaxed.
Talents drop like rain on a Sunday
Euphoria falls as winter night
Can I just reach this bed and lay?
I'm sick of this recurring plight.
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