It's all in my head.
It's just another dream about the sky reaching the ground and it's covering me.
I'm drowning in its color and I can't catch my breath.
Now that I see it, I am just another image of death.

It's another distant question.
The one left unanswered.
I'm stuck in the woods of my own mind.
I deeply question whether I should endure "one more day" in there.

We're only a mile apart, but I'm rereading the words you wrote out of infatuation.
The word "alone" means all the same to me.
Social distortion is my newfound home.

My head feels embedded within my pillow.
The ceiling looks down upon my insomnia.
In the end, it's all in my head.
I'll keep smoking the ethereal pipedream.

© urbanbearink