Hypnagogia

Is this my dream,
feeding me full, lost and alone
(fleeing from uncertain thoughts and demons)
can you feel it?, eating
(this hollowed existence once called reality)

no one believes,
that I’m still sleeping
content and quietly smoking
behind the frosted pane glass doors to breathing
this can’t be my reality
(dirty and poor, dressed in this new suit)

only the rain comforts me
so cold and dark, escaping the touch of man
I run through its vastness in the back of my mind

holding my hand against the warm glass, loosening my necktie

The reflection of my unshaven face
pale white with this disease called life
leaning heavy on me
why does time hold me here

(while you age with your grace)
hiding in your own uncertainty