One afternoon nap

On a summer day like this, the most involuntary thing is the afternoon nap for me.

By me, I mean this shell of a human and this set of bones packed in memories and dreams, and this ventricle chamber filled with storms and chaos. 

I lie down and pull the curtains over my eyes, this hot afternoon has some sounds in the distance. By sound I mean like some divine rhythm to which someone realizes some things sometimes.

It tells me how people wake up each morning with same slumber and can't decide if they want to save the world, or destroy it. Nothing is wrong with this world but something is definitely wrong with the people of this world. Starting from me.