When the brain must feast on a waterfall of fire

When the brain must feast the brain has no fucks to give of your plans for restful sleep.

It is 3:45 a.m. and the brain say pssst hey hey wild woman, tap tap tap where are you going to park for the waterfall of fire because you know all the everyone wants to see the most magical bits.

Shhhh shhh sweet wild brain machine, you jumble of electricity and neurospicy wondery, with your commanding madness which many wouldn’t see for the gift behind the surrender required to access, but that doesn’t matter because you have me and I am not afraid anymore.

Shhhh shhhh sweet madness, the parking situation is not your concern. It is a boop grain on the unpaved road you crash through your adventures on. Life lessons, some might say.

Your concern, my precious treasure, is the force that wakes you up before sunrise. You don’t need to fix that. You might be tired, sure, but sweet beast may you laugh in the wind of the yawns to come. Those are later. Not right now problems. Not problems at all really.

The yawns are far away for now, all the way out in the other side of the friendly darkness. That will be later, after you swim in the deep waters of imagination, floating under stars that map your way to beyond, bathed in the sense of burning desire, glowing in the essence of that glittering unknown you’ve so patiently done so much life to finally drift into. With really no patience at all.

You, my sweet beast, will rest later.

The brain has thrown its no-fucks spikestrip across your pillow anyway.

Get up. Make your coffee. Walk that restless brain to the gate and set it the fuck free, galloping through fields of fluttering madness.

And the waterfall glows like fire.