Sunday, February 06, 2005

late one night

The real dream begins
when I exit the highway.
I pass reality by
and enter the mind
my heart created.
The music begins,
the blackness begins,
the road begins.

It is three a.m. and dark.
My eyes are heavy, but
I drive home.
I tuck half of my heart
into bed, and
begin to drive.

The radio is what keeps
me sane.
Life seems true, but
the road, the tires, the sleep,
all make me feel crazy;
This being the sanest I have
ever felt.
The music.
It is what keeps my reality

The painted lines
appear and disappear.
Forty miles per hour seems slow.
I seem to be floating through
a dream?
Am I awake?
Am I still driving?
I know I am driving because
it continues.
Every night it continues.

My car allows me to be
My music is the link to
the reality in which I will awake.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Tomorrow will only come
if I make it home.
If I tuck the other half of my heart
into bed, and
begin to sleep,
Is this a dream?

I swerve and my body clenches.
My eyelids are heavy,
but my eyes are wide.
They stay open as I drive.
The night is black.
The lines are white.
Do I dream in color?
Do I see white lines and
a black night?

I see my marker.
My house will be approaching
soon on the right.
I turn off my engine.
I know I am awake now.
I thank her for gliding
home safely.
I sleep, and I dream.

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