I'm a lucid dreamer, so the world of my dreams is a very attractive place for me to be. Dreaming is my drug. When depressed, the desire is to overdose. This would be my angsty-teen poem except that I wrote it when I was 28 and still feel this way on a regular basis.   2BRØ2B oh, if only morning would not come for me but leave me ever sleeping dreaming what should be all around me darkness inside only light bound not by reality my heart and soul take flight i soar to pleasant, far off worlds and find there love for me not emptiness and loneliness like in reality but morning comes and makes me wake to see another day and loads me down with loneliness for dreams, i'm made to pay when day is done and night has come and i can sleep again i hope that morning never comes that eternal dreams begin but always is as always does morning comes for me and makes me wish to sleep the sleep where dreams can never be   Back to Poetry Contents