Tisket atask it, I trapped it in the basket.

It laughed it, said it wouldn't answer what I asked it.

I nagged it, I nagged it, and nagged it, and nagged it, till it screamed out the answers.

To everything, I asked it.

You're listening to spooked. Stay tuned. Now, I don't know about you, but for me, too often I feel like I'm walking through life, exhausted, sleep deprived.

Of course, I know exactly why, because my mind likes to play tricks.

Waking up at 3 in the morning with visions of the greatest story ever told,

bits, pieces, snatches, and I know that the simple act of reaching from my phone

to write this madness down, just a trickle of light in the darkness

will mean several hours of staring at the ceiling, not sleeping.

The next day will feel half lived.

I also know that if I don't write the brilliance down this instant, the idea storm will pass forever

from my mind like smoke.

Before, I would sacrifice sleep to chase these phantoms, but now, often, I tell them

no.

No, I just can't right now, but please, please, please, please.

Revisit me at a decent hour and you will be welcome.

I waved them off, understanding full well that these ideas, they are a fickle bunch, moody, vengeful, and because I refuse to play by their rules,

I know.

I will never hear from them again.

Thank you. from them again. Spook starts.

Now. I'm I'm I'm

...