Day Of Night

The warm night burns my body like a distant fire withdrawing my sleep and making me think that Morpheus never seemed so far away. I light a cigarette and look at the city that also looks sleepless, but oblivious to my suffering

A writer who doesn’t write; a poet without his muse. I try to look into the windows that are still lit, but all I see are shuffled lights amid the hell I live in. There goes sanity.

Drunk by pain, I follow the tango danced by the smoking coming out from the cigarette towards infinity. Then I follow the ashes fallong, flying and laughing at me.

The cars pass by little by little, but nonstop. I imagine that the drivers and theis companions are having fun. Good for them.

Please, Morpheus, plase, take me away. Let me sleep, let me dream.

I wonder if the other restless people in town are feeling the same as me. Probably not.

Where did all go wrong? Where did I drop the joy?

I’m not even halfway through my cigarette and it already feels like years since it’s been lit.

I sit on a chair and pull out old pocket knife. I admire the reflection of the wakeful lights on its blade for a moment. I slowly run the tip of the blade on my naked chest. For a few seconds, or so it feels, I think about pushing it in my heart at once and I press it a little harder on my skin.

No, I won’t end up like a loser. At least not now.

The sound of an ambulance siren approaches and breaks my depressed silence. It could be me inside of it.

I put out the cigarette and get rid of the butt with a certain revultion.

The heat intensifies and a wave of scorching wind is thrown on me as if saying: you’re not welcome, go away.

Believe me, I tried, wind.

The sleep god cancelled on me tonight. He said he was going to get me a drink and never came back. He probably found someone else to dance with.

The radio plays a 70’s rock song, the decade when everything was simples and things weren’t taken so serious. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

I go back to my room and lay down, but it’s useless. I can’t stop turning around on bed. All because of her, she, who stole my sleep by making me think of her constantly.

I look through the window and there’s the brightness of another day.

See you later, Morpheus.

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