I wonder.

Have you ever felt like just laying there was enough? No need to move or to feel? No need to be hungry or tired or high or jazzed or happy or sad or tripped out or alive or dead or anything except being there and laying down? Like the air was enough to keep you sustained forever and the music was swooping just softly enough for it to touch you but not force itself upon you? For the things in life to exist but be somewhere else? For you to not care if you got out of bed or not because you would get up if you did and lay down if you didn't, so it just was? So you were blank but not empty but not exactly full either? Instead you were more like full of nothing in particular and it all just sort of existed and happened to be there? Just as if you could lay there in your body and your bed and your room and look at the ceiling even though you weren't really looking at anything at all? Just, everything was and everything is?