thoughts

Everywhere she looked and everything she touched was inspiration. Driving down the black freeway on the 5 South the only thing guiding her pathway was her dim headlights. The windows were rolled down and she felt the crisp coldness of November on her dry skin. Glass Animals- Pools blasted on the radio. She tried to tune out the racing thoughts, going 80 mph not only her speed but those ideas. She wanted and believed she could do it all. Nothing would stop her. She raced home to write it all down.

The rumbling of her stomach was so loud; she was hungry. Hungry for something more than what was on her plate. How and what would get her what she needed? She knew things took time. It was daylight savings and she had gained an hour. The time was now. She had everything she could imagine to push through any obstacle.

She wrote it all down, every single thought that came to mind. She didn't want to lose a thought or a minute. She reread the words written in her yellow speckled Mead composition book. The pen she wrote with bled onto the other side of the paper. Thoughts on top of thoughts. Her mop-like once white dog  laid at her feet, he smelt of dried spit. She stared blankly into space trying to find a starting point. Where would she begin?