imagine

maybe tomorrow
now: cold feet under my covers (in the literal sense)
and a bruised toenail, blackened
calloused, so that they don't feel the tenderness
an early morning, but its already morning.
a late night that has passed.
my cold shoulders are pressed against the damp wall.
behind it is an alleyway
and there is a door, leading out to the street.
above, the two buildings connect to each other,
but i don't really know the neighbours.
i imagine that they are home at this time of night,
safely under cozy covers, unconscious to world
as this house is awake
as i imagine what is happening elsewhere. somewhere
anywhere but where i lie.
it is almost over here.
almost finished, completed.
tomorrow: new imaginations.

old imaginations. they always remain.
this blues-ey song.
this slightly off-key beautiful voice.
those words that mean nothing to me.
but so much.
i'm going, maybe up. maybe down.
maybe i'm just moving sideways, comfortably.
but looking uncomfortable.
no, its an awkward stillness.
and that's ok for now, because in a moment i will be asleep.
and i won't feel or think about this business anymore.
i hope i can fall to dream tonight.
i see my hands, i see my hands.
i don't sleep to dream (i NEVER remember my dreams, not since I was 6 years old)
i don't sleep to dream, i sleep to forget reality
in silence.