is a night like any other, it is a night like so many in every life, one night or longer, more or less elastic. It navigates blind, between the long deserted foggy and feverish turmoil, between the hours of mild anesthesia without dreams, and the tumult chimeras, which we holding the wrist, screaming in our ears stories without excuse. So many strange languages will remain misunderstood. In those slumps where we float indistinct haggard, sometimes break off glimmers suicidal. Unconscious and happy they stumble on their pedestals, and their joy flood pierces the darkness. Laughter fragile crystalline purity, they float by crawling in the dark swamp, into our eyes and fill our skulls. They are then
for us what we can not describe these beauties beyond words and that they become hope, hope of a possible new surpassing the Real, which surpasses what was previously thought. They are an opening in the heavy and thick curtain of our mind, they are the beacon that promises in the eloquence of his light firm ground within reach of the sea. For all these miserable that one day we all lost in the dark waves of delirious night, just very little for the heart racing. For a match is diverted his path, and each burst is a gem. To match by match, the chimera chimera, is the race of life, a life that night.
For a moment, so close to the flame, lit insects we dance phosphorescent bulbs all around. In a halo of warmth, we prélassons lazy, bewitched by drugs liars. And we're dancing like the drunken dance in summer, drunk and sweaty heat, rum-soaked white, light yellow and disillusionment. Happiness in a viscous as molasses, we forget why the trip. And we entrust the heavy burden the new goddesses of our lives. And the flame in the night, the flickering hope, consumes our luggage in a brazier troubling. Walls of black smoke overcome outbreaks clear and opaque clouds of those cremated thicken more past the dark of night. And still we dance, happy be blinded, happy to be dazzled, delighted to finally be drunk. Wandering in smoke, and we convince ourselves, we promise to live now address this chimerical.
But the splendor of the night at the option of a sad blow off without warning. His absence thing and silence is the dark echo of his past greatness, deafening. Insects lost collide haggard, apologizing, suffocated in their sobs, seeking in them a word that would bring a sense of their plight known. Then the smell of bitter memories of celebration resumes wandering insignificant. And their way is a string, mesh of dark bursts, swinging in a jungle of huge glow glow of neon nothingness.
So fare too sensitive eyes, their luck and their misery, to be dazzled at the slightest glimmer. Increasing the dose taken every necessary heroism adulterated, they stick their head on car headlights, constantly seeking more lightning flashes. At the option
chimeras, with the light as the years pile up like flies in a corner at night, those sweet illusions are more poisonous. Swinging constantly between the delights of addiction and the torture of missing sugar semaphores are taking a taste of poison. Sirens to innocent youths are perverse when they string a necklace distressing their crimes like pearls. The player feels in his back breathing consciousness of his addiction and the emptiness of his joys laughed his misfortune. These are just images, projected happiness. The pads of his fingers caress the skin texture of cold cinderblock and embraces the beauty flat, projected on gray concrete walls of crude. And then the light goes out again, the figure of happiness ran away without leaving any shadow. Not a perfume in air, no fingerprints on his skin. And on that other wall lights a new film, brighter, and he ran breathlessly towards the green fields projected onto the fence.
And then one day, one morning without warning, comes the virgin dawn, and we see a path to draw ahead, with the calm beauty of honest evidence. It is said with a sigh of relief "is there." It aligns his view, it aligns his face and his whole body into the path clear, and it starts up without asking any question. You never know, the night could fall again. Once again the night falls, again dancing to the chimeras our eyes, again we will be weak and we will follow, and we learn of ourselves but at our expense. Let us walk so quickly, as the road is clear, think of all these passengers staggering goals, but who stole the path to destiny, and we hurry, enthusiastic, on these roads open to us.
unrest which settles slowly settles on the ground, as are deposited in the evening clothes at the foot of the bed. And gracefully, barefoot in the morning light, take the road. One last breath our lungs get rid of opiate vapor chimeras night. In our back, we hardly hear the walls collapse and the singing drunks. We walk serene.
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