True Story Poem by Justin Aptaker

people, or beings (or so it seems) , keep having these long and meaningful conversations with me
every time I close my eyes, but well before I fall asleep
sometimes it seems I should not let them speak
but they bare their souls, these souls, whatever they are or wherever they're from
then sleep hits
with lucid force
time loops
back in my room
but it isn't my room
it only looks like my room
but there are things and beings in it that I can't remember bringing in
and I fight to return to my real room
and sometimes it takes all night to find it again
which is exhausting, considering that I have been sleeping