3 am and the roaring disturbs,
the melancholy half asleep of a man
counting sheep as he measures
the distance between the TV and the dining table
for the hundredth time.
“if only I had a rifle!!”
he murmurs, lost between heaven and hell
lost and found
hurt and in pain
he only finds disgust.
“aah, the one with night vision!”
he visualizes shooting every single
power motorcycle rider
every special guard of terror
on 1000cc engine bikes
that roar in the highway beyond his house
that create terror in his insomnia
every night at 3 am
a glass half full
half empty
with water next to sleeping pills
the glass at the edge of the table
he looks, he feels agitated
would the glass fall?
would it break?
more noise…..aaaaah. no
he takes a strong step
but noiseless as he leaps
he see the ghosts of fear
he feels the roll of a tear
burning down on his chick
and he picks the glass as
he reaches the edge of the table
he adjusts the location
he measures the situation “….ah now that is stable..”
he breathes out a sigh
but the roaring sound denies
any moment of peace
more noise….aaaah
“I’m gonna shoot you all…”
he grinds his teeth
and takes the pill
while he holds the glass with both hands
as he avoids every sharp corner
every horrifying imagination
of sharp objects
rush up to his brain as the pill descends
down, down, down.
His mind ridicules his actions
he slides by the bed
where his beauty sleeps
and he listens to every breath
in, out
“..thank you God, she is still breathing..”
in, out
the family is alive
not kicking, just alive
and sound asleep
But the roaring of the bikes
drill painfully in his brain
its 4 am and another pill
and another glass
half full
half empty
at the edge of the table
and another agitation
grips the nerves
sweeps the logic
and create a jungle of sharp objects.
