Possession

The room is mostly black.
A few shafts of moonlight steal in
from the cracks around the window shade.

The fan drones on and on.

My body begs for sleep,
But my mind is racing.

Words, images and ideas flood my awareness.
My eyes will not close.

I stare at the ceiling, but see nothing.
My imagination has taken over.

I toss and turn and try to get comfortable

Eventually, I give in.
I turn on my nightlight
and fumble for a pencil and some paper.

As each idea moves 
from the viewing screen in my mind, 
down my arm 
and onto the paper,
I feel my body release.

With each pencil stroke, 
I move one step closer to rest.

It is as if I am possessed.

Ideas are like demons that torture and torment me.
They will not release me, until I commit them to paper 
and set them on the path to fruition.

Nightwork.