I’m in that phase again. When the same song is playing over and over and I get sucked into the memories that haven’t happened yet. The memories, that I’m just busy creating in my head over the events that never took place. Not yet. I write in anger. And under influence of huge amounts of caffeine in my blood. I write when drunk and when the furious bursts of emotion are exploding inside me.
My head, so firmly on the ground. The eyes run miles and miles across the smallest details of those tiny stones. The fragments of the daily being, unnoticed by the passers-by. The sun is setting down and I can smell the odour of the day just gone. It lingers in the air around me, shifting the swirly pattern of my thoughts towards the light in front of me. Imaginary music plays loud in skies above and drips down on me, one inspirational note at a time.
I toss and turn, trying to find the right angle to express myself. The criticism acts like the best drug to try harder. To prove you wrong, to prove me right. To feed my vanity, that has been screaming for some time now.
I turn the music louder and sip some coffee. I only wish for words to go down as easily as that bitter drink of mine. I close my eyes and let it go. I’ll keep you close, if you promise to keep me under the spell of yours.
– Chatty Owl has left the building –