Heat. Sweat. Heavy warmth.
A puff of Summer's hot breath
Drives sleep from my mind

Echoes of crickets
Motors rumble and growl
The night's symphony

If I deprive myself of such a motionless state
Wouldn't my mind rest assured--
Meanwhile producing the art in it's entirety?
I will maintain restlessness in order to conflate
Could it be such a mistake after all that I've endured?
The work so mighty and fiery, oh how so the irony.