What happens at 4 in the mornng when...

[izeveryboyin]

I started having visions last night... about hope and sex, and enrichment. They all seemed to include a red-headed girl with freckles and the Devil's smile. But who's the Devil anyway? Is he Hitler, in a blue dress? Or perhaps "The Man" who "keeps holding us down". Then I thought for a moment it might be my mother,
but upon further inspection, changed my mind. Who is this fairy tale, I thought. Who be this apparition of my thoughts and why always dancing, dancing? Should I fuck this girl, I wondered? Is that what she's there for? Should I mutilate her and sell her body in bits and pieces on E-bay for 20 bucks a pop? No, too commercial. It's back to the dashboard baby, and we'll dream ourselves a good life. Wit gold and horse-drawn carriages an peoples that sang fer us whilst we walk upon the floor. And ah, good friend genocide was who we came to see. Shirley and Hilda are dead and instead of buried we gave them head and then the old priest said, my hellians, please get thee to bed, all undergarments, please do shed, and little Maria, wrists she bled, all for a silly old boy named Ted. And then the visions stopped, they just, they, they came upon me and then they stopped and somehow, I feared I was positively fucking insane and yet I... I still begged to be set free of nothing at all. So alone and cold, weasels closing in. It's 4:52 AM and it's cold outside so I took a walk with my head shaped in the clouds. Somebody pass me a cigarette and... sing the cosmic blues... yeah. I'm gonna break out in a hefty sweat... and sing the cosmic blues. Making love in old back seats, passing down those battered streets and listening to manic beats and sing the cosmic blues! And then there was a train I heard passing, and there was complete and utter darkness. Nothing to see but my computer screen. Then I knew... truly knew. I was alone
It is morning, yet it is night. The sky is dark, there are tears fallen on the bed, I'm not sure whereto they might fly. 6:12 or something, I think. (sigh) Here are those noises again, silent films have come to life and I am believed now to be dead. I have been waiting so long for this life, and here it is, lying there, on the floor, bleeding to death. Fuck, man, somebody call the fucking cops or something! They've killed the wench and there's not a soul to wipe the blood! Fuck, man, don't take us in for it, we didn't slice her! (scream) I am ready to leave this place. There are evil men in big heavy suits and bright ole' eyes screamin bout noontime coffee and a board meeting at eight. And I'm trapped inside some poisonous womb, now somwhat matircidal and insane.
Who Put you here?
Nobody.
Who left you here?
The world.
What struck you down?
I think it was me.
Wat shall you do?
I'll die.

[Arcadia]

no se veía ni un alma,
tampoco una maldita luz.
Andar sólo con lo Primordial
no puede sino ser solemne
pero el rumbo de la marcha era incierto.
Las cosas latían por fuera y por dentro
un deslumbrante secreto,
un grito de encuentro,
una turbia seguridad.
Continuamente buscar suposición-esperanza.
No, no hay motivos de entristecerse a causa de este arte.
Conciencia terrestre,
sentirse principiante,
profundamente terrestre
errante inquietud de la lluvia.
Todo lo cercano se aleja.

[izeveryboyin]

beautiful, amazing, fantastic, mind-boggling. Now... what does it mean??

[Arcadia]

well... I´m afraid I don´t have the answer ni the translation.
Saludos,

Arcadia