Bleed on paper

I have this strange habit of living inside my head,

So many conversations,

So many words and feelings go unsaid.

I live beyond the edge of the real crust,

Many a time, I fantasize scenarios and paint them with sparkle and dust.

When I look into space,

I dream of galaxies calling my name,

The moon echoing the thoughts I chase.

I meet people and I look into their eyes,

And I can see the scars and bruises,

I can read their thousand lies.

The world waits for the sky to turn dark into the sheets of night,

So they can sleep in their dreams,

And I wait for the hour, to bleed and write.