4 AM Writing

Teen angst and 4 in the morning don't mix.

Mind falls short at night

From early morning twilight-

Birth of creativity.

Mind alert as deer

Crawling from the sweet warmth of bed-

Why won’t my spoon write?

Let the juices flow

Something profound, poetic

Suicide. Perfect.

Darkness surrounds me

Wishing only to escape

Holy s**t, I’m blind.

Sitting in my chains

I’ve got the keys, but can’t leave

This is a very poor prison

This Labyrinth of 

Hate, where are my saving lights?

Where’d I park again?

Smoke trails turn to dream trails

Trails that end in teen angst and death,

What the hell was I thinking?