Musings at midnight by an insomniac

The time is not a problem in my world, time is simply a thing for keeping to put up in a little box and forget it ever existed. In my world sleep doesn't exist and ideas dominate the entirety of the place. It shifts from summer to winter with subtle brush strokes of a passing thought and smile. Slipping in and out of a haze that is filled with too real dreams and nightmares, or maybe they are all beautiful nightmares waiting to be seen. Give me your hand and I'll walk you through my dreamland, through this beautiful nightmare.