Immersed in a dream, a sensation of a memory, in a degrading orbit in me. Round and round it goes, singing in harmful hope of one day could bes and things that might have been. It's so far away i can't reach it, but its sering light never lets me sleep. How can i tell it this is just make believe? Chose over reality and not my imagery, calm my pulse so i can at least sleep. Tide over tide it sings to me, washing over like waves i let it take me. Maybe one day it'll be more then see through, I can't imagine reality into being. If i could how would i fall in love? How could the strings of spontaneity pull me in? Maybe each dream is built in the face of mistakes, layered and layered upon themselves and then it's much more then discarded ruin.

I'm in love! I'm in love! .. with my self? I don't know, what a melancholic feeling sweet but salty. Who ever took the time to read this, you're incredible!