Written in the Dark

Sitting on my bed. Not much in my head. As dark as it is in this room. It feels endless, but not like a tomb. My computer screen is all I can see. Writing in my room is free. I can get a taste of harsh screen light. My hands look ominous on a keyboard lit bright. Maybe the ceiling is dripping with slime. It could be ready to drip on my head anytime. I wouldn’t know. Even if the ceiling started to snow. I sometimes fall asleep with my laptop on. In this room that feels fond. Sleeping in my bed. The computer goes dead. But everything is ok. Knowing my words will be there the next day.