Three A.M.

Tossing and turning, mind spinning and swirling, for hours on end

Finally at three a.m. the warmth of the bed feels more like a prison than a comfort

So, to the work table I go trying to find the mental acuity to start a project

Drawing frustrating blanks thanks to sleep deprivation and thoughts which won’t stop

Thinking of the day ahead, trying not to see it as yet more blank pages ahead

Mocking me with the stark whiteness and blinking cursors of the days before

Looking at the tools and tubes stacked nearby I sigh, for there are a lot of ideas

Yet little in the way of a driving force pushing me to create

Brain is like a quagmire, the uncertainty feeling as though it is dragging me under

Looking for the it thing, the passion, the shining beacon to lead my feet down the path

Perhaps if I simply begin putting one foot in front of the other the light will turn on

And the time stretching in front of me will be filled with promise again

Hoping beyond hope that one day, new beginnings will not be the same

As starting over from scratch again, redefining every fucking thing once more

Where do I start this time? The answer is in here somewhere, waiting for discovery

Waiting for it to be time to start in earnest, for there to be less stops and more starts

Three a.m. can be a mind bending riddle filled with what ifs and whens

Okay bootstraps, reveal yourselves so that I can begin to pull myself up again.

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