Another night, come and gone
Another night vanquished by day
Another night I’ll never get back
The clock is mocking me
I’m staring at the freeway of my mind, a pretzel of overpasses, underpasses, onramps, exits. They crisscross, intersect, disconnect. Is it an excuse or a condition? Just pick one. Pick a lane and don’t look back, but I can’t. I sit here. Paralyzed and brain dead. The digital numbers are laughing. I’m white knuckling it, as they cackle like lunatics.
“You lose again, mortal!”
Why can’t these f@#king books just write themselves?
A.C. Melody 
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