Always Dreaming, Never Sleeping

This is where I begin and end:
Riding this train, a window seat,
Simply so I can see the world
In all of its hideous beauty.

Time slows down, so I may think.
Picking out faces in the cemetery,
Wondering who they visit and crave.
But the train speeds up, I can't stay.

I wonder if they people watch,
The way I do when I find them.
Do they detect pain in my eyes
When I'm lost deep in dreams?

I wish they would see more hope,
Instead of despair drooping my face.
Do they know that the sunny day,
The one they bask in, is you to me?

Even the rain is you, whispering.
So I always pick the window seat
Because I want--need--to be closer.
Even the weather reminds, I'm sickening.

From train to bus, I ride each day,
Passing the wire man and world.
He holds his globe in his giant hands,
But his feet are somewhere deep below.

I often wonder where he treads.
Then I think that I am crazy again,
Because I wonder such odd things.
But it's because I can't sleep in peace.

Five hours of sleep and I hate dreams,
Because they're filled up with you.
But thirty hours awake is no better,
Especially when I can't really breathe.

The stabbing in my ribs is growing,
Larger and larger, so I have to gasp.
Pain reminds me of dark secret past,
So I want to curl up on the cold floor.

I wish I could sleep away eight hours,
When I should really be creating work.
The floor is dirty with coffee and cake,
But so am I, so I wouldn't really mind...

Because maybe, if I could sleep here,
My mind would be filled with sugar
And the alertness of bitter caffeine.
But if this were so, I'd always be running.

Bittersweet victory found, once I'm through,
Even though I'm not really tired anymore.
After thinking so long, I'd much rather dream,
Because your face is my guilty night's pleasure.

I used to dream of a Prince Charming,
But he had no real face, just plasticine.
Now his face is yours, along with words
That only you would speak comfortably.

Dreams are numbing, so I can forget.
You're not even mine to dream about,
But nor am I your own to look after.
Yet I still wish and hope you were here.

Even though I'd much rather be there,
In foreign land, offering you helping hands
And lips and hips and hair and eyelashes.
It still can't be, so I'll keep on dreaming.

Your face is my constant, unfortunately,
You have an insane secret lover in me.
Because I'm always thinking, always
Dreaming of your heroic, angelic face.

I want you to come to my rescue
Because I'm never really sleeping.
Always thinking, too much on fears.
Always dreaming, too much on hopes.