I am upside down
In my own head
I close my eyes
feeling them
scan the letters
words
phrases that turn to
sentences
paragraphs
pages
chapters soon
books that create
shelves in
librarys
and back to letters
My fingers already
ready to turn
the soft, musty
yellowing paper
Before my eyes
are halfway down the page
before my thoughts a quarter
I am anxious
to see what
happens
Never wanting
it to end
I know it's late when
I take a
peek
at the stiff, red
numbers
Four numbers
It's tomorrow
and I imagine
Cinderella
each story different
as she
Tumbles down the stairs
as the clock
Strikes
You know the feeling?
When it's 1AM
and you can't sleep
When it's 11PM and you're still
scribbling in your red notebook
under the cover,
hidden
Just one more thought and
BAM it's down
The thing you made up running
through the woods
is on paper
Though it seemed better
in your head
In the saftety of it
softly hummed between
your lips.
I've been doing this a lot lately. Thinking of something while I'm jogging or eating or supposedly having a conversation, then trying to write it down in late hours. The ones where I'm suppose to be sleeping, but can't. My mind is awake so I write. Might is well do something worth something for half and hour. Then, only then can I sleep. The nagging in my head saying writewritewritewritewrite settled to something bearable till the next day. Where I wake up and write and read for an hour; no wonder my dad thinks I sleep a lot.
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