Sleeping Seat Belt

The dark side sees,
The dreams turn to a liquid that slowly leaks out of my ear.
Burning so much that plastic actions can’t retain them.
Only alone in a burnt hallway, locked doors,
Floor made of keys with no holes to put them.
Farther away quick sand lies, maybe they’ll see me,
Maybe I’ll be recognized as different, although all the rust remains the same.
I’m climbing a hill made of mirrors,
It forces my face to fight me,
I’m struggling with my self, struggling to:
Put on piercings through the frontal lobe,
The left half keeps me on my toes as to what purpose is,
The right, of course, distracts me from reappearing in my own dreams,
Birthing triplets make me hope that I may stop the cycle.
Help me find my rain so that I can return it to the sea,
Wherever it may be, It is the slightest sight that slides me away,
Like mud down a mountain, a mountain I will never reach.
The rain continues to drown me; it has been piercing all this time.
A bed of needles to pass the time through dreams that leak as they always have done,
Now, here, fear is a way of life and eternity has stolen my alarm clock.