Flightless Condors, Heavy Wings

Lying here watching the world spin from the comfort of my own bed and gazing at my
      own ceiling
Has never been so great for you see there are thoughts that swim around like
  ornimental fish in a great glass tank
And happiness rains down, in busshels, from the sky.
All glorious rods of Heaven, for which in my dreams I may hold but waking never touch.

And it's easy to forget that my arm has been stinging for two months straight and hurts
  to the touch
While the waves of cool and calm silently wash over me like a comforting plunge into
  the great depths of a great sea guarded by a watchful protector spirit guardian
Keeping me here, keeping me safe and warm, never harmed.

For the euphoria of insomnia is that of a constant unrivaled beauty,
The very queen of lust who sits at the top of the stairs and smiles, her words so kind
So kind for the restless one to hear again, and belive and be shattered again and again.
For in this game, many an adder hath struck thy heal (and all burned in the depths of thou hellfire.)

The thrill of the waking, so dire so great, that the warmth of slumber is never felt,
Restless was your word, your name for me, and I accepted this truth
That I may never rest again until the world is right and that I may do this forever
Never settling, living life as the irreversible fire, the inferno forged from falcon wings.

Flying high whilst lying here, eyes rolling back, and dreams seeping into reality.
Flightless while standing and racing the breeze.