The ground will only drag you down.

Apr 10, 2008 - 21:30 PM PST

Swallowed alive
by zippers and plaid.
The light spinning overhead,
It makes my head swim.

Multicolored paint strokes
Cascadded across my eyes.
The second the lights are out,
My sense of direction begins to lie.

Temperatures confused,
Am I burning or freezing?
Everything looks like it's breathing.
I'm afraid of sleeping,

I feel the static beneath my skin,
It crawls and expands into oceans.
My pencil feels weighted,
The paper lacks texture.

Each thaught, every touch,
This is my idea of pleasure.
Pillows are made of sinking sand,
and my mattress is the saving branch.

The hairs on my arms,
They stand on end,
As I prepare my vessel to sail off,
To venture my dream lands.