Road To 3am.

I hate the dreams that are so intense that they haunt you the next day. It kills me.

The dream land, stark in contrast
Fills the mind with wondering and wandering
Pictures of a lost world
Gained by closing eyes
And opening the mind
To what might have become true
(Reality bites, doll)
The character grows in story time
And the eyes follow you regardless
-Playing follow the leader can be dangerous
And taking the first step
Often fails comprehension
But don't shoot the messenger
Who can't help the bitter surfacing
Of memories
That decay and erode the thoughts
Of something gone right
(Wrong?)
It's trapped in a memory
Trapped in a memory
But it's been said already
And the hidden intentions don't listen
-Or lie
The perfection was attained once
And lost to misinterpretations
Of a dream