Delirium

A river.
Low light
Light breeze.
A boatman and his boat.
The former, watching. The latter, wondering.
Two people lying on their backs.
Their eyes are filled with one thing. Just one single thing.
One single entity.
The sky.
A deep blue velvet sheet with silver glitter sprinkled here and there.

The vision clears.
The ceiling glows in the dark.
The street lights stand still on it.
The car lights keep drawing, and re-drawing patterns.
Dots, circles, oval-shaped, elongated, squeezed, stretched.
No light.
No breeze.

The music starts.
The thoughts entangle.
The weight leaning on him has a face now.
A face with a pair of eyes.
Eyes with a stare.
A stare with emptiness and eloquence.
Contrasts. Conforms. Contrasts again. Hesitates a little. And conforms again.
Confirmed.

The music amuses. The very power of it. How dare it?
Each strung string that is touched and vibrated, tugs at other strings.
Strings that have been desperately tried to hide.
Strung tight. Yet vibrating.
Producing vibrations elsewhere, again.

The eye-lids lift themselves up.
The eye-balls move around.
It's still the the same.

Delirium: 90 minutes of god-knows-what-happened.