I’m far too in love with how it feels to be swept up this way.
My fingers fly across the keys. My mind works too quickly for them, dropping words and skipping over them. I cannot go back and find them yet. Not until I calm down. I cannot take my eyes off the page, I cannot leave it until it lets me go. Exhaustion pulls me down into sleep, and I claw my way back to the words as soon as I gain parole. Everything else is a fog. The structures I have laid down with care. The skeleton is there. Now I race over this skeleton like a frantic spider, weaving fast enough to capture light sparkling in its hollowed eyes.