Most of my writing is done past midnight,
because I guess that’s how long it takes for me to be honest with myself.
I can put ideas together during the day,
but they’re fake.
My head overrides my heart,
my hand overrides my head,
And suddenly everything I write is crap.
But at midnight
my body is tired,
my mind exhausted,
and every part of me wants to go to bed.
Except for–surprisingly–my heart.
My heart is tired,
as in “sick and tired.”
It’s sick and tired of the lies,
the little half truths,
the unconscious (and conscious) sins,
the bullshit that we think and say
just to get through to the other side.
It’s tired of having to take the backseat
to my hand, my head,
and to every other part of my body that thinks it can control me.
But at midnight,
It’s just he and I.
And only then,
I let my words flow free.
**”Untitled Photo” by Gonzale via Deviantart