real.

dreamless:
i whisper surreality only to such ends
like shrouds for the vilest
which hinder the weak to the wise

my worries caress time lapsing
yet it splintered my fingers,
how unfortunate..
i meant brilliant pain
that is lack of sleep;
then i realised that i didnt realise anything:
i still want her tetrahydrocanabinol touch
i love her for what she relinquishes
is real
getting so close i can get drunk
without the sip of processing turmoil
but just
her thought for me to be dreamless

she makes me high..
let me close my eyes
crawl a kilometer of broken glass
only for her to spit on my face

maybe then
waiting seems to be just as a debt
longing to be forgotten
in an afternoon sky of this sacred condemnation