This is the kind of night where I feel safe and sound; two in the morning, under my duvet, at the edge of sleeping and yawning. Where I do not have to worry for the next hours because I know sleep will fights it all. All the minimum effort to close my eyes then thinking the good plot to begin a dream, until the next morning when the sun reach its peak, and my mind starts to wander off far away to the place where mystery and surprises are all over the room.
Outside the sky is crying, it all started as soon the sun gone and rotates to the other side of the world, thus I don't have to see droplets of rain coming by. The curtain was closed anyway as the lights are up on its shift to guard the night. Browsing to Jack Kerouac's old quotations showers me with thousands of positive ideas. All raw and genuine. Allowing me to feel nothing but inspired. I needed that -- quietly but with an immense necessity. I needed to feel something.
Set with the mind of young and thirsty traveller, everything comes very fragile, with one simple touch or move might affect the whole longing existence, letting non-sense questions and doubt of big old faith emerge up high on the surface. Whilst, answers are running wild and hidden in transparent covers between logic and emotions. And also love has lost its sweet appeal into broken illusion, posing feverish notion. Are you offering salvation or temporary solution?
I thought this midnight rain might help me to sleep, I thought the song might ease the noise, but no, should have known none of those worked. Tell me when the next train is going to stop cause the sleep boat is nowhere near the shore. Then again, keep reminding me why I'm here. There must be a damn good reason why this ever start.
x
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