It’s a jungle out there. All the lizards and slugs and birds and spiders are sleeping in their critter beds. Snug as bugs in rugs. The jungle is stone silent, save the occasional twig-crack leaf-crunch. Half past twelve and the foliage shimmers in solar-powered artificial light. Morning comes soon, and with it, so too does the fresh perspective of a brand new day.
It’s a jungle in here. Countless thoughts and dreams and hopes and prayers are running through my head. Picking up steam, gathering momentum. The visions end unhappily, save the occasional memory-triggered half-smiles. Half past twelve and my prospects glisten in hope-tinged artificial limbo. Morning comes soon, and with it, so too does the fresh perspective of a brand new day.
The Adventures of ALS Boy 
poetic thoughts, late at night, Jason. beautifully written. nighttime does strange things…brings out the best and worst, doesn’t it?