Winter of my dream.

At the autumn of my dream.
My eyes are leaves
They try not to fall
But …
down
down
down….
Slowly…
The space I can focus with them
gets, smaller and smaller.
Blash!
Who's that up stairs?
Bochum!
I could call the police
Tacafang!
It’s one o’clock A.M!
Thanks,
Now I’m more awaken.
I guess I need some rest,
too many days of busy nothings
I want to go on,
But my body complains,
saying no more! Stop!
Try to stay awake,
though I start to nod…
down, left
down, right
down, down.
Zzzzz…

____________

someone noticed I'm quite sleepy?