Late night writes

I was to be asleep by now was I not,
I was just living little nothings
And never loving anything
Rubbing my dry itching eyes
And asking why I didn't just close my eyes
And perhaps I might have dreamt again


Why can i feel myself slip out of my own existence
As I lie here on my bed
Why do i feel like I could have been anyone
Any other face, any other time
So what is there to this Me, in this Time.