Why do you stay up so late?
In the wee small hours of the morning, nothing is expected of you. Humans are off the clock. It’s overtime, but it’s my time.
I can’t justify spending half my life asleep, oblivious to the darkness that holds internal light.
It’s quiet, no one comes knocking, no one calls. It’s just Matt, and I love his company.
If daytime is the chorus, night is the sweet, sweet solo symphony of thought.