Where the Wile Things Are.

Sleep is trying to sew my eyelashes close. The need is mine to stay awake. I don’t want to miss the point of time when you smile in your sleep. Dreaming of the craziest things. Dreaming the forgotten future. As the wind plays with the curls that fall on your forehead, I try not to laugh, when I fill with pride that I am part of you. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m a part of your dream too. Just something you might see like a flash in front of your eyes when you wake up in the middle of the night. Maybe I’m just the shadow of something you’ve always wanted. Maybe I’m just a Placebo effect. Maybe I don’t exist anywhere. Maybe I’m omnipresent and so obvious that you can’t see me. I might be God.

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