While I was cleaning today, I found some writings I did for a poetry class I took when I attended the U of M. It was fun reading through them. This is one of them. It’s not particularly good, but it really brings back memories when I wrote it. In it I describe exactly what I was experiencing that night. The title, 4:53 AM is the time when I finished writing the last word of it.
I lie awake in my room once again,
victim to my own addiction.
In a distance I can hear the chirping,
young birds crying out their hunger.
The streets are still wet,
cleansed by last night’s rain.
I sit in my bed,
eagerly awaiting for the golden fists
of the sun to smash through my windows.
As I wait for day to come,
thought of you flickers in and out
like a broken neon sign.
I watch as the sun
slowly glances over the distance
all ready to reclaim the sky.
As the last drop of night is wiped clean,
I say again to myself,
"I should not drink so much coffee." </div>