this is what I meant
it is so hard to fall asleep
to drift away on the sea of unconsciousness
to let the waves of rhythmic clock tick, be the soft wind in my sails
and my own breaths, the cries of seagulls in the velvet sky
thoughts of tomorrow have already arrived
now they are criss-crossing the tunnels of my brian, making loud noises, scare the gulls away
I glare out the window, somehow the sky is white apricot
which makes the trees a fine contrast
it is only half past one, still there is hope for my voyage to start
however, slightly late
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