I guess you could call this poetry...

Asleep

I have this incurable disease,

It’s called humanity, it’s

Filled with lucid dreaming

In a never-ending state,

And it’s

A strange kind of dreaming,

Not sure if you’re

Awake.

Dulled sensations,

Lasting seconds,

Empty,

Empty mind.

Am I still dreaming?

I can’t see a thing

Even when it’s right

In front of my eyes, and

I don’t know what’s going on

Things keep changing

Morphing thoughts and

Feelings swelling

Overflowing

Watching the night sky,

Clouds,

Sun blooms and

Dissipating moon,

Dawn and dusk,

All go floating by.

Won’t you let me

Just sleep,

Please,

Don’t wake me when I’m

Figuring this all out.

And maybe one day, it’ll

All fall into place,

But until then I am falling,

At a break-neck, wandering pace.

Maybe we’re all dreaming,

But what happens when we wake up?

Maybe death is the final

Reality check,

But we’re too scared to find out.