Skeletons

...and then, after that day of fog dragged into evening and quiet night, how suddenly the mind cleared and began to speak. Another pot of coffee seeping, as papers spread across the floor and post-its amassed along the walls. I leave the cave shortly, starving, but the night runs on for hours as the alarm clock towers with imminence. At the edge of my skin, that slight current of electricity I know so well. The old friend that means there will be ink on these pages come morning. Thick, black liquid: my veins run dry.

Suffer the expulsion gladly.