Clock-working Nerves At Daybreak.

It is pitch-dark outside. It is 4 am now. I woke up. I am listening to russian songs. Perhaps the alcohol awake me; by stirring up every nerve in my brain, it also, meantime deludes me into drowsiness. I am drearily awaking. The alcohol relentlessly clockwork my weary nerves dancing. I peep at the street. There's nothing I can see in front of me. Outside of window, it is the nameless, faceless, lightless darkness. I am tiredly energetic.

There is nothing ahead of me, there is nothing behind me. Future is long, and past is short. I am just very, very tired. More often I am bewildered, how to get the thing right. Neither hint of sunlight outside nor inside. There is nothing wrong with me, but tire, and solitude. Tomorrow I will find some books to read. It may probably help.