The infinite sleepless lies

I could see the light coming from below the door frame, and the ceiling fan going round and round, just like my thoughts. Writing here the story in letters from this fourth dimension has and always will be the feeling that the addict in me will never let go.

This place in the universe holds memories and dreams that emerge from the cracked wall over the other side of the stairs. The horse looking at me from above and her eyes that were not there from the beginning. He can see his younger self in the window reflection where energy flows like a teenager, in contrast, his eyes blink slower each time, until the night would finally crawl away.

For now he wants to stay there sharing the cold night, looking at the light coming from below the door frame again, knowing that he'll see the light as long as he is alive, as long as she is providence, maybe not the same nights or the same skies.

The light will always be the same, I know I'll miss you, but I know I'll bring myself back to you, to your arms.