It\'s late as I write this
I\'m lying half asleep
Sat on top of my warm bed
Wandering through my room
And looking past the glass
That hugs my window frame
The border around my foggy pane a flat white
It reminds me of myself as I stare into the imperfections of a visionary being
I got home an hour before
I never leave the house
Not since the door was sealed shut
After May two years ago
I keep track of those times
The fence gate between my eyes
Now surrounded by the fog of my mind
Notice the minutes that pass around
Lay on my bed with me
I am a visionary being
I travel across timeless strands
I am aware of myself
I am fixed on myself
When we used to meet
Where we used to meet
It was so uncomfortable
It appears to be midnight
I think I will drift off now