Kerouac Complex #3

I knew not what to say as I laid there under the sterling moon. Its rays melted around my skin, and if I squinted hard enough, it looked as if it would explode right in that single moment; explode into a million more stars to fill this dismal night. I shift my focus slightly to the rightly, and examine the night sky bit by bit, second by second, and now my eyes are filled with stars and blackness, aeroplanes and space. I am laying on sand. My toes are numb from being hidden under the cold dark sand, the cold pure sand, but my hands feel warm, and wish to be the sand themselves. In a single moment, I felt my body turn to sand and my mind fade into the stars, with the whispers of the ocean playfully taunting me. "Come in," they say, "Take refuge, take shelter. You are free." The laughter of reality mocks my gullible innocence, and I realize that not only am I invisible in this busy restless world, but I am alone.

I think about leaving.
I think about staying.
I think about disappearing.

I think all too much.