I lie awake in a pitch-black bedroom
with a notebook of my thoughts tucked neatly under my pillow,
which is tucked neatly under my head.
"Perhaps I should keep writing," I mutter into the midnight air,
a drawl to my voice that can only be awarded by sleepless exhaustion.
"NO," my mind replies.
"Why not?" I ask.
To which my mind replies, "If you don't take a break and think, you'll burn out. If you keep writing, there will be nothing left to think about. ... I'll be empty."
I let that steep, then reply,
"Ah, now I didn't think about that."
YOU ARE READING
Miscellaneous Murmurs
RandomI tend to be one of those that has late night epiphanies that I must write down before they disappear. This book is simply a place to put those little ideas/thoughts/philosophies. Enjoy if you please, and do leave feedback, should you be inclined to...
