Walking on lonely streets at night, burning lights flash on my eyes, vacillating, shyly, the whole dark hours preceding day time. Everywhere places are empty and the atmosphere it’s so full of false good feelings but night these days are quite and hide the scars of misery from people, inside their homes. I can see happy families and their good intentions. Shortest “good intentions” than Christmas could last. And I can also see Christmas lights.
Many, and sad, Christmas lights.
I can feel the night wind against my skin, and its sad melody comes with crying voices through the city. Dark, it’s death this time hidden by alerting moon, covered by smooth sky of Christmas,
“The date of the Jesus’ born”
As you all were always saying to me, but don’t worry about it, my blood wetting my own body and the thin trace of mind heath coupled with some pain attempting me with hallucinations of a last sleeping moment, it’s all my way to celebrate it.
Hallucinations of the reality, by the way.
Now, I can everything understand, now I can for everything find a reason and now I can see the actually why, I realize I’ve been doing all these years long about that all: Nothing. But now it’s too late night and the boy that wears night camouflaged vest come for completing his habitual work. Sad and monotone activity of sending our lives to a beyond.
Outside there, in the wild, still I wander through empty nights but my visions now become darker, as much as my conscious loses itself away and the last clap, as of a thunder echo inside head. Darkness come, and death reign now, there’s nothing I can do.
Sad colorful lights still blinking silently on this happy night, as if nothing sad have ever happened. So, as always.