The Science of Sleep

how do i really know when i'm asleep and when i'm awake? how do i really know the difference. is there? maybe i just sleep to hide from the reality of awake. or maybe i stay up late to hide from the purity of my dreams. how can i really be the judge of what part affects which. why do i wake up with sweat. why do i wake up with tears. why do i wake up with a smile and a minute to breath. all this feels strange and untrue. and i won't waste a minute without you. what makes this reality and sleep sleep. what does it matter. another 8 hours i don't have to be on my feet and breaking my back. where's my cinematic orchestra? do you really think you deserve one? are you really expecting a disney ending to come your way? do you really feel what you've done, or suffered or tolerated is deserving of a sunset photo finish. i don't. not yet. i want one. really bad. sometimes you feel like every piece of this puzzle is so very different from the next. that nothing fits together. that every note is off key and you were meant to stay in bed with your eyes closed and your brain off. forever. and other days it seems like every waking minute was spent queing you for a day to come where it will all make perfect sense. every word, every experience, every failure, every success, every smile, every frown, every tear, every swing, every hand to hold all happened at the exact moment they should have, and have up until now been building you into something you don't even realize is being created. you probably will not realize. not for a while. whats your fucking rush. somewhere between filth and smiling i'm still waiting for a handfull of bliss and broken hearts. against all odds all walls and faces i'm fighting this so very sweet smell of sleep. or is it time to wake up?


what can i do with my obsession?
with the things i cannot see?
is there madness in my being?
is it wind that blows the trees?
sometimes you're further than the moon,
sometimes you'closer than my skin,
is there madness in my being?
is it wind that blows the trees?

and my heart,
burns,
for you.