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Sunday AM
Why is the first hours of sunday always the most pensive time I have? It's always the time I can't escape.  It must be something of the idea of the last day of a week, the update of post secret, the rawness of the last vestiges of the weekend to be grasped before the common work week starts again.  For some reason if I am not immersed completely in something else I am deep within my mind.  The night seems so much quieter on this day alone, the ability to let go of my thoughts unable.  Work, family, relationships, even things that shouldn't take a second thought become so much deeper immerse subjects now.

 Anxiously..... scream into the silence.... nightmares and dreams intertwine so seamlessly.  My muse isn't even able to spark, the mundane holds it under the dark waters til it croaks its ethereal song of sleep.  I swear having to swallow another stress is going to feel about as good as barbed wire wrapped billiard balls.  Sleep can't ever come quick enough on a Sunday spent alone...


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