1:27 A.M.

coffee talks and coffee walks.

i stayed up too late.

i've been thinking about caramel and butter and everything in between.

coffee sighs and coffee skies.

i dreamt about the future.

i've been thinking about starry seas and sky-scraped clouds and everything in between.

coffee breath and coffee depth.

i almost dropped my pencil.

i've been suffering from the cold embrace of words leaving and wrists seething from fallen ink and everything in between.

coffee regrets and coffee bets.

i could not fall asleep.

i've been thinking about the pressing midnight hours and what i have left to accomplish, have yet to discover, and everything in between.

coffee hours and coffee glowers.

i tried a couple pillows.

i've been thinking about blooming flowers, the crush of rain, and walking along the concrete streets, the silver towers, and everything in between.

coffee yawns and coffee cons.

i shouldn't have swallowed that.

because i've been pondering about a thousand poems on insomnia and the likelihood of ever seeing those cities i wish to see someday, and at one a.m. and more than a quarter a flower who's just a seed, a twinkling sapling, cannot pretend like it is the stars in the sky when it can barely reach the daisies around it and though it tries to look like them, and dreams of it too, a real flower wouldn't let coffee get to them, even through the stem-deprecating strew.

1:46 a.m.
update: still tired