Soft music sung by long dead singers fill the air;
as the fan attempts valiantly to move the hot heavy air around.
The laptop’s humming, stale coffee accompany a dying cigarette as the author works on.
Outside the world’s asleep, reward for a long day of labour;
but the author struggles on for love, glory and monetary benefits.
The deadline’s ticking, the clock that never stops;
tick tick tock tock goes the seconds, followed by minutes and hours.
A early rise is in order tomorrow;
Jeez, is it already 3am?
3 hours for a period of rest, Nirvana before the rush starts again;
already it feels too short.
The bed beckons, singing it’s siren call;
calling out to this ship to wreck itself on it’s shores.
Eyes drooping, closes and forced open again;
10 minutes, an hour, 30 seconds more…..
Late nights.
-Dedicated to all fellow owls of the night.
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