Saturday, April 25, 2015

Spreading my Legs for Trouble

Late at a friend's noisy den. Stoners' haven.
After nursing his sprained leg for a bit, decide it's best to put obliging partner to sleep.
Realize it's complicated to leave him alone and resign to situation.
Goodnight kisses. Forehead stroking in absentia. 
I'm awake as fuck, in the quietest room.
The party outside is breathing its last.
The raging celebration inside my head however threatens to spill out my ears.
The most inspired I have felt in a while happens to be now.
Behold.
Sacred trippy thoughts start to arrive.
Better put them down else they will be lost forever.
Pull out phone. Start writing. 
#authormodeON
Submit completely to Stream of Consciousness.
*rinnnnng*
Jump out of my skin.
"Google System Update Available."
Ugh.
Partner's calm sleep = destroyed.
Those bloodshot eyes fly open to spot me glued to phone screen at that ungodly hour.
*sound of crickets in the dead of night*
50 second recon to make sure we're okay.
I'm helpless against the rapid, unending flow of thoughts. 
Must. Keep. Writing.
My inability to stop what I'm doing at 3:28 am registered by the husband.
I notice he isn't snoring anymore and that throws me.
Uh-oh.
Inspiration begins to ebb and flow. No! No! Oh you poor masterpiece that could have been
Imagination & Co. waving goodbye.
Come baaaack!
*crickets laughing their head off at my plight*
The proverbial light bulb goes on.
Oh fuck. This may look a bit... umm dodgy?
"Perks" of having partner from entirely different line of work.
Then, a not-so-great track record comes to mind.
My thoughts have now clotted entirely.
Better do this tomorrow. Audible sigh.
With a press of the lock button that screen goes dim.
I roll over to cozy up but am met with a grunt.
Then for the rest of the night, all I see is the back of a torso.
Enough damage to ruin eagerly anticipated brunch?

Hmm. 

At least, Sangrias.




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