beecherj's profile

Autumn's such a fickle stage for me. Symbolickly it is used to represent change, but not the good kinds. Dying, decaying -- these are the things that autumn means. Historically, metaphysically. But for a night person, Autumn is heaven. It's when the days are steadily growing shorter, and you begin to feel less like a shadowy nuisance, and more like an invited guest. It's warm enough, even here, that the outdoors can still be braved, if not welcomed, and you have much longer to work with. I&nb...

ambiguous lethargy is a foul, mis-tempered beast. To sleep or to dream? no and needed. being dragged toward numbing your mind or replenishing it is a difficult place to be. The evening was already winding down by the time I arrived at her doorstep. No one could know what the night would hold. Not even I. Many monotonous minutes later, we treked out into the brisk August air. Every drag on my cigarette, besides dulling the senses, marked with sharp staccato the steady stream of breath wafting ...

At 1 am, after running off 7 hours of sleep for the last three days, anything that's soft and fuzzy starts to seem inviting. But even as your head hits the pillow, and the room starts its descent to dark, you can't help but pick up things about the world around you. Without visual cues, they all seem a little more accentuated. There's a lump in my pillow, about 3 inches from where my head's resting cocked to the left. I would've never known, and come tomorrow, I probably won't remember. Or be...

Night's falling as I steep outside the heavy metal door onto the brick stairwell. I figured this was a stupid idea, but I decided to do it anyways. The night is cold as sin, and the wind pierces the thin layers of fabric between the elements and my body, letting in the chills on the oncoming night. I start on my way. It's already dark, even though it just turned 5:30, though the days aren't much brighter, being perpetually overhung with clouds and, more importantly, the melancholy brought on ...

Would you dare to tell a tale? A tale wrought with joy and woe, Through fog and smoke that make you choke, Or learn anew, you used to know? Would you bare your soul on high? Recite it as a bible verse, To strangers near and family dear, Rejoice the better, lament the worse? Would you share your darkest wish? And bask amidst your deepest dream, without the pain of any shame, Are your kind thoughts not what they seem? I charge you not to do such things, to share with us your troubled mind, but ...