In bed and staring at the ceiling, as if the words were up there somewhere, hidden in the white etchings.
The fan is on, it helps to drown out the thoughts. The thoughts keep coming anyway. The fan is on as loud as it can go. The thoughts are relentless.
“Just a sentence or two, a paragraph. Just one page. Get the thoughts out and then sleep will be easy.”
Four hours later and it’s time for coffee. Tonight is going to be a sleepless night and that’s okay. That’s okay if it’s just for tonight. Tomorrow there will be sleep. Tomorrow there will be sleep because who knows what will happen the night after. The words are relentless. The words pound against the sides of the mind. The words are hungry and the body is starving.
Black coffee at 3AM and that’s okay. Tomorrow there will be sleep. The day after is another story.