Being a teenager sometimes means being a vampire. Sleeping all day and having this ridiculous energy at night.
My room is clean.
My grande peppermint mocha is gone.
My book has turned to the last page.
My notebook is only halfway full.
My computer is singing to me.
The dog is restless.
The lights are quivering in the dark.
My mind is racing.
The reporters are anxious.
The journalists are scurrying through their articles.
Late night college students study through pages and pages of knowledge.
Coffee in hand, light on desk, warm socks, and the comfort of a future.
The musician with his hand on the neck of a beautiful guitar,
Plays renditions of past loves and future tidings.
Strangers brush shoulders.
Fingerprints slip through library books.
Taken and forgotten under a pile of thoughts left eschew on carpeted floor.
The world is strange.
Definitely at 3 in the morning
From this angle.
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