2am Onslaught

2 am and wide eyed
In total darkness I sit
Staring into space
Alone
The geniuses of the past
Come alive as I
Remember
What was done in times
of awakening and
utter silence.

With ferocious anger
I cock back my “machine gun”*,
The keys bloodied from
The blistered ware and
Tear of the tips of
My fingers.

With only the star studded
Street lights to guide me
I press on
Typing what is left
Of this night that
So desperately calls out for
Attention.

At 2am the mind is all but silent
The onslaught of trivialities
Have been eaten up by
nothingness.

*=Typewriter

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