Night Life

Rise with the sunset. Sleep before the fiery globe that represents normal life can stain the inky velvet of the night sky. There is a cycle to it. A never ending cycle. A procession of seconds, minutes, hours. Some filled with the pounding of music I no longer hear. Some filled with cool liquids flowing down a throat that no longer cares. Some filled with the press of people I do not know. I can no longer tell the difference. Occasionally it seems that voices are speaking to me, hands are pulling me along, feet carrying me to other places that seem no different than the ones I have been at before, from the ones I know I will visit. As if it is a dream. A dream that I will not wake from. Can I ever awake? Is there any reason for me to? Or shall the endless moment just continue. This procession. This train of flashing lights that I can no longer see. Do I care anymore? Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is of no consequence. I continue to dance until my body fails me. Zoned into the drone of a tongue that serves only to bewitch and entrance me. Blindly I am pulled up. Dropped once more into the mass of humanity that is at once familiar and alien. Thoughts drift slowly away. And then there is only the Music. The Voices. The Heat. The Light. And I dance on and on and on into the Living Night that is at once my reality and my illusion.