Lucid Living

Been afraid of myself, too long

Avoiding squares to be cool

Circles are where it’s at, although

What do I know, anymore

Any less would be a crime, against

The wall, blank, just begging for morning

Light to shine on something, anything

To stop me from thinking, about

What it means to be me and why I’m not

You are not able to understand, unless

You sit with me and talk about why we are not

An insomniac’s dream of dreaming

Lucid living out our days

Without ever having understood what it’s like to be ourselves.

Categories: Writing

dougheal

Electric cosmic lounge lizard of the wheeling variety. Lover of fine food, beautiful people, creative thinkers and fantastic voyages. Multi-media artist and writer.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s