In fact it's so late that it's already early again.
It's my birthday and I can't sleep, as the clock on my wall tick-tocks loud ticks and silent tocks into the darkness of my room.
I don't think that my poetry is special, yet in a way I do.
And as the voices of the podcast I'm listening to with half my ear spin threads of words through the badly lit atmosphere around me, I'm reading stories.
Words make me feel afloat. The emotions they bear within the squiggles of their letters is significant and enchant me every single time I read.
And while I don't think my words are special, I hope to one day make people feel as afloat with my poetry as I feel right now, reading random pieces of writing at 3 am on my birthday.
Words fascinate me.
And stories fascinate me even more.