Into a writer’s mind

I stare at the clock while seconds, minutes and hours slip by,
as I try to find
the lost voice of my head,
through all the chaos it bore.
The ceiling fan is dancing dizzily above,
the windows creak as the wind penetrates my solitude.
The voice in my head fades
as she crosses over the thoughts.
Her grace overtakes
all the clarity and I lay awake, open eyed dreaming of the night we kissed.
“Breaking news” the bald guy on the television exclaims, departing me from her delicious thoughts, and dejected,
I drown him into blackness.
It’s silence again.
She is long gone now.
The food is cold.
The four coffee cup stains on the floor boast of giving me insomnia.
The papers ruslte again
as the wind finds it’s way through.
I try to think straight.
But the thoughts find their way
through the crevices of my psych.
I fiddle with the pen
yet another night, wondering
“What should I write about tonight?”

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