I'm getting sleepy. I should sleep.
(No.) There's so much you'll miss — I need to speak.
You'll chase my sleep away. (Quiet.) You'll break my dream.
If you sleep, you'll miss life — You'll search your yesterday in deep.
(Or maybe I'll finally see it.)
What if you see in dreams the things you dread?
What if I flee from what's inside my head? (Who knows?)
Think of a dream, how beautiful and deep. (Stop thinking.)
I'll sleep; you fall for traps while I'm asleep.
Maybe you're sleeping now — maybe this is your dream.
(Or maybe this is waking.)
Between real and real, a fall that takes the night to dawn.
(Hush! I just want sleep.)
A fall you see within your dream.
A dream you see while falling deep.
(Don't fall.)
(You always do.)
In front of endless mirrors: you.
At the edge — you.
Inside — still you.
(No one else.)
In day, in night, in dream, in fall,
alone, untouched, only you at all.
You chose the loneliness. You said sleep. (yet) Dreams come plural; nightmares singular and deep— you alone, in solitude. (Always you.) Only you.
The place you fled from
is where you arrive to.
(There was nowhere else.)
This is being lost. A fall without control. (You let go.) The unknown — and you.
That's all. (Isn't it enough?)
Alone in solitude. Only you.
The fall between the end of a line
and where the next paragraph began.
(the final dot.)
Hitting the bottom.
You saw the end.
It's over.
(Death.)
Only,
Forever you.