Sometimes I lie in bed,
not awake nor asleep.
I think, all alone,
of things I've done,
and things I wish I could.
As time goes on,
my list does change,
the list of what I want;
what I need.
Ever changing, ever shifting
never staying stagnant.
Of poems to write, and love to lose
and friends I want no more.
But when I sleep, and when I dream
I realize I'm not in control.
My life, a haywire synthesizer,
randoly spurting out circumstance,
speaking with my voice,
splinters my life.