My dreams...
...are like hot nails into the eyes of my soul.
Sometimes I wake up and I can't make words to describe what I was just dreaming.
I used to hide in my sleep, because the dreams were better than reality.
Now my dreams are more real than fake, and I feel like I'm clicking through nightmares on a playlist, trying to find the reality or lack thereof with the least pressure.
Like trying to find the lightest weights with which to drown yourself.
Sometimes I wake up and I can't make words to describe what I was just dreaming.
I used to hide in my sleep, because the dreams were better than reality.
Now my dreams are more real than fake, and I feel like I'm clicking through nightmares on a playlist, trying to find the reality or lack thereof with the least pressure.
Like trying to find the lightest weights with which to drown yourself.