A somnambulant existence,

Materializes in a dreamlike haze.

The irony

Of it being

Due to insomnia.

Yes I'm an insomniac,

At least for today,

For the first time,

And it is

Scary, man.

Like things don't vibe

And objects can't be distinguished

With any certainty.


Compromise my surroundings.

Imagination run wild.

It's almost as if

Someone slipped drugs

In my coffee

Cause I can't even

Figure out the next rhyme.

I'm sitting on idle time

Trying to find

And separate

The real from the rest,

The haze from the shine...

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