Late Night Ramble
"She pictures the broken glass... pictures the steam...she pictures the soul with no leaks at the seam... dreaming of Mercy Street..."
Got home from work. Felt like a giant gob of ICK...fell asleep... woke up in a Peter Gabriel kind of mood. Why is it that in the deep hours of the night the inner demons seem strongest? I have to be up before the sun tomorrow morning to make coffee or the lads at the office...yes I spent $10,000 and earned my BA so that I could make coffee "...don't look back, don't give up, pour yourself another cup..." and we head off into Mike and the Mechanics mode...the hits just keep rolling.
Got home from work. Felt like a giant gob of ICK...fell asleep... woke up in a Peter Gabriel kind of mood. Why is it that in the deep hours of the night the inner demons seem strongest? I have to be up before the sun tomorrow morning to make coffee or the lads at the office...yes I spent $10,000 and earned my BA so that I could make coffee "...don't look back, don't give up, pour yourself another cup..." and we head off into Mike and the Mechanics mode...the hits just keep rolling.
posted by Bea at
11:39 PM
2 Comments:
Late parts of the night are when the hormones start kickin in. It's when we are the most alone, when we can feel that elusive singularity of being.
Midnight. No one is holding you. You're awake and alone in all the world.
Nestled between cold sheets and memories.
Locked in the embrace of silence
Listening for the distant heartbeat
What do you do and where do you go
in those dark solitary corridors.
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