Her sweatshirt commands me to sleep

Backs of heads in parallel lines 

With equivalent slopes

Whose destination is infinite knowledge

Although infinity is a possibility we never really considered real

And squaring our dreams never amounts to anything more than madness

Bold red letters

Thy command me to sleep! 

Yet leaning I glean the inspirational words from another point's back

Words we cherish on our tongues

In our minds and hearts

But can never really apply

Words from a point whose coordinates are now imaginary 

Although once real

Existing now as only a memory in our thoughts

And we like to tell ourselves we exist as Gods

Containing universes within the hard shells of our skulls

But if you expand enough

If you widen your viewing window to space

All that we are are coordinate points

Whose position is determined by the distance we have to things

To time 

To other people

And if two points constitute a line

Then our line is intersecting time

But then again, what does that mean?

Because I cannot simply fall asleep

And I cannot multiply my dreams

And application is harder than it seems

The End

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