Obsessing over you the sky squeaks w/ common sense, folds into dreams.  
Comp lit finds it has a square shape, after all, bolted down in blips w/ a simplex-repetitive top layer, tethered for competing raiments.   
 
There is an interpretation to this nightly misfortune (all ours). Dream space is tight. You can’t find your story in a void or crescendo: Where’s the cost?   
 
Well, all right let’s not.   
 
Where are domestic metaphors anyway? our rooms have even less to say..  
Tho, when I’m feeling it, going out and doing things metaphysically .. 
.. I get where I was.