LoserFriendly
10-22-2005, 01:15 PM
It's 3am.
But my eyes are beating sleep
I think they're going to hold out tonight.
And I'm gazing out of the window from my bed,
wondering what you're doing in the other room,
2154 miles away, on the other side of the moon.
Are you also staring?
Or did you close the curtains
with the television turned too loud?
But it's probably best that you don't turn it down.
Just ignore it.
Me?
I'm switching over and over again
between the cold sides of the pillow,
watching the numbers rearrange
in between flashes of black, to form your name.
And a spider crawls in the corner,
spinning its intricate web, it's trainwreck of thought,
naked in the moonlight.
Its telling its story to the unlucky fly
but it's just Zzzzzzz...away.
But then the digital distractions hum
with the sound of sirens,
and I read over the letters you didn't send,
convincing myself I could do better than this.
But I can't.
And I wouldn't want to.
And I used to dream,
over every concious hour,
so much the line blurred into
whatever reality might have been,
merging and manifesting
into a photo seared into my eyelids,
a thousand images flash back and forth at 70mph
all showing the same thing,
a perfect car crash of colours.
and that night, you were in the passenger side,
with my dreams packed in a trunk,
as you drove to the coast,
off the edge of the world.
3:01am.
But my eyes are beating sleep
I think they're going to hold out tonight.
And I'm gazing out of the window from my bed,
wondering what you're doing in the other room,
2154 miles away, on the other side of the moon.
Are you also staring?
Or did you close the curtains
with the television turned too loud?
But it's probably best that you don't turn it down.
Just ignore it.
Me?
I'm switching over and over again
between the cold sides of the pillow,
watching the numbers rearrange
in between flashes of black, to form your name.
And a spider crawls in the corner,
spinning its intricate web, it's trainwreck of thought,
naked in the moonlight.
Its telling its story to the unlucky fly
but it's just Zzzzzzz...away.
But then the digital distractions hum
with the sound of sirens,
and I read over the letters you didn't send,
convincing myself I could do better than this.
But I can't.
And I wouldn't want to.
And I used to dream,
over every concious hour,
so much the line blurred into
whatever reality might have been,
merging and manifesting
into a photo seared into my eyelids,
a thousand images flash back and forth at 70mph
all showing the same thing,
a perfect car crash of colours.
and that night, you were in the passenger side,
with my dreams packed in a trunk,
as you drove to the coast,
off the edge of the world.
3:01am.