the cities are all sleeping.

the sun is gently trickling trough my open window, cascading to filter the room into barred segments. everything lays in simple ruins and piles, a concourse absentmindedly constructed by a semi modern man between the tasks of a pointless life. the summer is setting in - just yesterday i caught that unexpected intoxication as i wandered through the streets, the smell of summer paired with the sun on my back. it brought me back to a thousand moments playing through my mind all at once, no chance for comprehension, just a millisecond of remembrance for all things recorded in the summer. i no longer feel as though i am on the edge of something. it is as though i have reverted back to the middle of the desolate plain, scanning the horizon but seeing nothing but the familiar gray of a home long ago let go. i feel nothing here. no love, no passion, no zeal for exploration or expansion. it's times like this that i yearn for the great mountains covered in pine and the pacific forests behind them. it is these moments where i know that no matter how insecure and inconsiderate it may seem, my days here are numbered. last night i was lying under a cascading purple sky that spun as i thought of where it is i want to be. i need something new, something inexperienced where i can get my feet on the ground and my head in the sky again. i need a place that inspires me, not only in the sense of self-importance or even mind expansion, but the way that the river down by the weathered stairs used to. i want the world to be open again, but currently it seems to be the night of my life and the cities are all sleeping.