General bloggery

With my brain detached
I wander barren streets.
It is all to me foreign,
all these empty meets.

A lone rat dares the night
And is quelched by the moving shadow.
As I am engulfed
By many a dark foe.

As my thoughts are revived,
My dreamworld dead,
I ponder if I should return,
To make amends between cushion and head.

In full consciousness are revived,
I seek denial,
To run away,
From sleep so vile.

Thus in my small reality,
I wander barren streets.
It is all to me foreign,
all these empty meets.