5:30 am

Found this on my computer. Dont know when exactly and why I wrote it, but I like it, for some odd reason.
So here it is:

5:30 am
The clock synchronises inside with the dripping water outside,
Some voices murmur in the dark,
A lone rickshaw speeds of into the distance
and I go miles and centuries back and forth in my room ,
in the company of books.

It's strange this feeling,
of wakeful sleepiness.
There's a certain sense of urgency to stay awake,
Yet there's no pressing deadline.

It's just that.
The silence of the night,
the quiet scratch of pen on paper
and the hum of the refrigerator.

That time of the month

Silent pep talks.
Quiet and animated conversations in my head.
Anxiety, frustration,mood swings and depression.
All coupled with well timed pangs of hunger& soon enough, boredom.

I know I can,but somehow , ugh.
Why?
The essential question.
It's funny how you become philosophical at a time like this.
I guess there's nothing else to question,except your very existence itself.

Streams of unconsciousness,
Piles of papers,
Coffee stains ,
Blurry eyes
and German expressionism.

Yep, its that time of the month again,
Exam time.