Tonight I can't sleep,
I haven't written in a while,
my canvas laid blank,
awoken from insomnia.
the train gave me muse,
the sound of horns through my fan,
at midnight,
like singing angels,
still so clear in my mind,
I had to blink twice into reality.
the limbo of late and too late,
so close to dreams,
although recently they're nightmares,
I wish to dream of singing angels.
I feel dull for past days,
months,
Anticipation of the world around me,
some lively part of fate,
that seems to only stay quiet.
I wonder if the world talks,
but through fans,
In distorted pitch or muffled song,
I wonder if the world talks to me,
through dreams.
The ones that sit in my memory,
the ones that wake me at night,
those ones may be the world,
calling my name through the dark,
fate in muffled song.
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