The fading boundaryBetween my two realities
Lies the the edge of my sleep
On the stitches of the sleeves:
I stood on the steepest tip
Of the antique clock
On the wall
It said nine but it is pronounced seven
Early in the morning
With the murmuring
Of my brother and father
And the buzzing sound from the worn out radio,
Waking me up but it is not time yet
Give me more rest before you regret
見てるよ、夢より。
また…
Written on 12 March 2016
From the two realities
