I am a late night dreamer.
I walk the streets
With parallel universes
On repeat amidst my thoughts,
So that each turn I make
Runs parallel to my intentions
On a highway of bright lights
Though sun has long been down.
Yet I roam here
With eyes baked in sugar
That envision it all,
Right down to the first footsteps
That I know very well
Will wake me up tomorrow.
I roam here so that I can awake
With a mind full of race horses
Excited in a freshly opened pasture
Of my tomorrow which I am now
In tonight as a late night dreamer.
Tag: baked
My Poor Lily (day 1852)
Where is my calling?
Have I baked it away with smoke
Resting aimlessly slobby
And ignoring the obvious answers
With clearly obnoxious results
And a banter of insults
That leaves dizzying spells
To wilt away my poor lily?