It’s 3 in the morning
The highways in my head are stuck in a traffic jam full of drivers with pent up road rage
I try to be quiet so I don’t wake my roommate
In reality I want to scribble on the walls write out my each and every thought
Draw every image that my want to be Da Vinci mind paints
Because it is these years that will be my foundation
It is these years that will define my future family’s financial situation
Call me crazy, but thinking about the future is a prescription to anxiety
I don’t know if it’s my thoughts or the late dose of caffeine that is keeping me awake tonight
But something tells me that if I write somehow the traffic will vanish and I will at last overdose on exhaustion
It’s 4 in the morning
I am mourning my loss of nine hours sleep
I used to be stronger but now it isn’t so hard to see
That sitting in this traffic every day is beginning to take a toll on me