a chaotic gift to idealism
everynight i do not grow tired. i lay my head to rest, only to sit restless for hours. my head speaks of the most wonderful poems and dreams of joy. my mind races through decisions that i never remember, making choices that mean enough only to forget. great thoughts engulf my every breath and never get expelled to paper, never get told to an ear, never go past the walls i built in my head.
sleepytime is a gruesome time. the time where everything becomes clear... all the answers are given, all the ideas are brought to conclusion. sleepytime is my time of clarity. it is the time of clarity and everynight it is lost with closed eyes and an unconscious mind.
sleepytime is the time to remember. the time that is put on reserve to remember those who have left.. the ones i love and the ones i despise.
sleepytime is my time to be impatient with my patience. it is my time to be patient with my impatience.
sleepytime is my world of total contradiction. it is the time when i am most awake.. the time when i seem most alive in my mind.
sleepytime is one of the best times to be awake.
i need something.