3am

About that magical hour.

it’s 3am, i’m wired,

the evening’s far from expired

and something happens in these

magic late/early hours that i

can’t explain, a trap door opens

in my brain and my thoughts

roar forward like a freight train,

an explosion of psychic energy

reserved solely for times when

the rest of the world sleeps and

the rhymes keep seeping through

the ink and leaping off the paper

back into my pen, mixing up

the words so they can flow

smoothly again, and i couldn’t

get tired if i tried, but my

imagination’s fired and there’s

no turning back, the s**t comes

so quickly i can barely stay on

track, and this caffeine-fueled

verse covers pages and pages

as i go through the stages of

a verbal purge, moved by an

insatiable urge to put thoughts

into words and create something

new that you’ve never heard,

then sleep two hours, take a

shower, and rejoin the waking

world, passing time until

inspiration returns and it’s time

to once again pick up my pen

and burn the candle

at both ends…

-CV

Reviews

[Melanie Jane Boicourt S..]

That was brilliant! That is how it is too! When it is ready to flow, you cannot stop it. A freight train is the right scenario. You have to just stop what you are doing and right it down or sing it out loud if noone is around. You definetely can't sleep untill it safe in ink.
Love All, Mejasha