Productivity matrix

I read the morning paper before going to bed during periods of high productivity. Words, ideas, insipid logical frameworks of once impassioned spontaneity spill out at nocturnal hours. When sound asleep, I suspect perfect, ephemeral, withering insights pour into my mind. They're forgotten by morning, the other morning, my morning, when the sun slowly descends and darkness patiently consumes the soon to be forgotten light. The news is now old and the day anew. I sit, with a lamp light standing as solitary sentry against surrounding darkness, incurring a terrible toil on mind and body, in pursuit of the wispy outlines of faded dreams.