Tonight the air feels stale, as I lay awake in bed.
Feeling quite alone still as one day melds into the next.
Rather tonight lasted forever, as tomorrow will only be another day in a long list of copies.
Tonight that day has yet to come, toiling in places we despise, arriving to a empty room after, but from here it has yet to happen.
Questions abound tonight about what is to be done, but the mind is uneasy and spoils the body as well.
Tonight we are unsure of what is dream and what is reality, tonight we ride on the dull razor of perpetual seduction of what is known.
It is never well to be shrouded in the night, never well to dread the approach of a new day, but this play has taken the stage before, sold out, standing room only.