Cait - May 3 2015
That 3 am feeling
When you can still taste the wine on your tongue
Even though you drank it hours and hours ago
And your mind is brimming with untold stories
And your fingers are itching to write
So you open up your notebook
and bleed ink onto the page
Words flowing like torrents of rushing water
Too fast for you to keep up
And there's a solitude
of being alone, being awake
at this desolate
but electrifying hour
The night seems to hum and the world outside your dark window seems so full of possibilities that you just write and write and write
and write
And then you slow
The words coming more like molasses
The ink from your pen now
seems like ordinary ink
The burst of inspiration is gone, and you're back to
That 3 am feeling
of tiredness