Because I Have To

They usually come as I stare at the ceiling.

I look at the little lumps of plaster and see

how they are configured in ways that mimick 

the constellations 

that light up

the night

sky.

I can't stop them.

So I sit up and slide the curtain

to the side of the window.

The warm glow from the streetlight

slices through the darkness

that the shine from my lamp

keeps untouched.

They make me notice the subtle squares 

that the screen beyond my window makes.

I look past them, out into the night.

But they're still there,

disrupting my

view.

They keep coming.

The words will not rest until I pick up my journal

and write them down,

engraving them into the page with my pen,

where they will finally be satisfied

and I am able to sleep.

Until it all starts over tomorrow night.