When I Grow Up I Want To Be Bill Evans

What's the point in going to sleep when you have nothing to dream about, in bed but not sleeping, tippy toes, snapping. From too much dead weight. From my Shins
I will fall back down, without complaint, sinking into sheets that grow mold and new ideas, one day my skin will surly shed.
then I will climb, with new found optimism.
Upon these dead, memories, and appreciate the modest view
Upon these dead, memories, and appreciate the modest view.
Turn and briefly smile, downwards. Towards my Exo-skeleton 
And Exclaim...
My oh My. We have drifted apart.
(Objective introspection scares me.
I'm not nearly as interesting as I think I am.

 [bad word] delusional.

"I'm great, thanks."
Sadly.)