Dreams
This will all be forgotten in the wink of an eye’ he thought as he flew through the moon’s nose.
This will all be forgotten in the wink of an eye’ he thought as he flew through the moon’s nose.
But you are like a bolt out of the blue. The sparkle on the edge of a star. Everything has meaning and everything is full. Not just half full. No short measured optimism. The glass is full.
Not in sleep, but in the moments and hours between; I waste valuable seconds, minutes, and months on feeling instead of doing. Imagined futures and projected fantasies that come to nothing permeate the fog of a life lived in some half-awake state.