While everybody sleeps our lives become inevitably shorter.
So oblivious to what is filling these dark corners.
Crawling up the walls across the most unconscious borders.
The mind of a lonely soldier in the weave of the highest order.
Collecting so many ambient thoughts to escape reclusive torture.
Constantly questioning reality because I've only lived life to a quarter.
Growing wise everyday, learning to suppress this genocidal horror.
While everybody sleeps I think about what levitates on the other side of day.
An eight legged creature, the moon and an angel who stays awake to pray.
Whatever it may be I focus on this page and write out my own play.
With the help of a silent acquaintance whispering things for me to say.
I've broken from this web of anxiety and flown away.
Now fluttering through these enigmatic dreams, so gracefully avoiding fray.
By: Dayne M. Rohn
