Day 27 + a Poem: “23.46”

Today, I wrote another 1,000 words or so, bringing this week’s total to a solid two thousand and something. Yay.

I say ‘today’, I actually mean at 2am, sat outside in the freezing black night air on a damp bench, ever aware of the fact I had to be up early for work but my mind wouldn’t let me sleep.

To say I’d had ‘a bit of a night of it’ would be an understatement, but you really don’t want to hear all that. Suffice to say my inability to sleep was not insomnia, but I decided to use the fire in my head for creativity rather than self-pity.

It actually felt quite good to write out in the cover of the dark (and aside from the faintest glow of a far-off street light, it really was dark) – you have to really let yourself go and detach yourself from the ‘worry’ part of your brain or you’d be forever startled by twig-snapping or hanging-basket-creaking, but doing this also allows you to write totally honestly, with no consideration of what people might think or whether you’re doing it ‘right.’

I managed my 1,000 words within half an hour, and then I went on to writing a poem in the dark:


I’ll take my bad habit in the dark,
embers spark like schoolgirl secret whispers,
dirty breath rising and circling, carries away
a private heart outpouring on a station platform.
I am bitter cold.

It will not burn forever.
The crackling lines will race distracted on.
A little more time would make this better,
Tick, tick, and boom.
Breathe in, the rush will come soon,
or it’s just another playlist in the making.
My feet are going numb.

Not sure the last drag will be enough
or be the last at all.
Badly enjoyed,
There’s life in this story yet
But life and hope look nasty similar in the blackness.
The night is shining,
I am newly dark,
A crushed stub now where heat once warmed my gums,
lays waiting for the passersby
to tut and tread the corpse.


I used the cigarette metaphor quite consistently throughout, and so tried to make the rhythm focus on breathing in and out, like the poem itself becomes this very dirty habit. (I feel I should point out, I am not what you would call a smoker!)

Your thoughts, as ever, give me cheap, wonderful kicks.


One thought on “Day 27 + a Poem: “23.46”

  1. Pingback: Tweets that mention Day 27 + a Poem: “23.46″ « No Day But Today --

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