Zombie Nights/The Only Softness Is In The Afternoon

The image keeps me alert, hyperaware through the watches of the night. I sink into refuge of songs and better memories, but it only serves to stimulate my mind more. You turn me into a zombie when you are ironically never to come again. At this point, I have no idea what i would say to you. The only softness is in the afternoon, when my poor body gives out and I give in to sleep without a choice, mainly because the lack of truthfulness around me has faded to a dull roar. I actually murmured that it was good before I fell into the abyss, the first time since winter. But in a few hours I awoke to the beginnings of another vigilant night. And so it begins again, and I whisper prayers to be allowed to return to the soft, gentle exhaustion that actually loves me in reality.


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