Out Of It

Out of It.
Like the world is a murky dream,
Where you can see clearly,
But your mind drifts like a broken raft at sea.

Where you can concentrate,
But you don't feel like your sitting where your bottom touches the chair.
The only thing you choose to see is the bright computer screen inches from your face,
And the only thing you can think of is what you are reading this very minute.

Out of It.
Everything is perfectly silent, you can't even hear your shallow breathing.
The clack of the keyboard, and the click of your mouse, are the only things that are audible.
Darkness from a night like all other late nights, envelopes you, but you do not mind.
Everyone sleeps, if you stay very still you can hear someone breathing the deep soft breathes of sleep just across the hall.

Your mind is wavering, and your slipping into a mystical trance.
The dreamy sensation of weightlessness is nothing new.
Your starry-eyed and fanciful, feeling like you could sail into the sky and wander aimlessly through the clouds.
This is the only time your mind is free.

Your neck is sore from staring at the screen,
But you don't notice.
Your in your own, soothing, nighttime world,
Where nightmares could never reach you, where the darkness is like an old friend, whispering whatever you want to hear.

It's past 12:00 AM, you do not think you are tired.
You try to grasp the situation with your obscure thoughts,
Thinking, with the last bit of sense you have, that maybe it is time to sleep.

You notice that the computer glows eerily when you stop.
You know when you turn it off, the moon's light will shine through the window,
pooling on the floor, to help guide your wavering footsteps, your blood-shot eyes, your cloudy mind and hazy thoughts to the soft warm bed waiting just in the other room.

Out of It
Is the waking dream in the middle of the night, where the world seems to melt away and. Nothing. Matters.