|so nice of you keeping me company my bright friend|
Insomniac writers. Who'd have known I'd become one. The anxious trembling hand full of tension non-stop writing, it's the time subconscious awakens and can be expressed. It's the time the body only blindly serves the brain which eventually becomes your hands and grabs the pen itself.
Is it my insomnia having all these dreams or has my intelligence sundered from my body?