I think of writing,
all sorts of books and stories,
and going with them.
My eyes are closing,
and dreams fill my sleepy mind,
merging realities.
Music’s my passion,
to hear the rhythms and sounds,
coming together.
My coffee is cold,
still I drink it as it is,
and it’s tasting fine.
Distorted dreamscapes,
alternate realities,
messing with my head.
