Late Night Confession.

I’m so easily given to self-delusion at this time in the diurnal cycle, when the scotch and the deep night energies conspire to nudge me towards imagined dimensions. The very witching time of night awakens a conscious dream state, in which I’m laid open to the thrilling or devastating effect of a single word or tone of voice. If ever we meet, stand clear between midnight and 4 am. Thrills walk hand in hand with the potential for confusion. I will look at you in the morning and ask who you are. I will remember, but I will weigh you differently.

This is a difficult confession, but I might as well be known. Please don’t comment on this. I’ll want to delete it tomorrow.