People tend to tell me
I zone out often,
staring
at the dust particles
writhing in air.
They're not wrong,
but they're not right either.
I'm really just watching a movie—
a special picture just for me
with characters only I create;
with a plot only I understand;
with love and drama and tragedy and horror.
I'm not in it.
Everything about this world is perfect.
I'm not entirely delusional—
I'm aware that none of it is real,
but I love this little world of mine.
I watch them all grow to be people
I can never even dream of being.
It's a movie that never ends
because it's my only escape from reality.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
ŞiirLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
