The longer in the day I wait to write, the dirtier my paper gets. Thoughts seem to pour from everywhere as soon as I'm up and threaten to spill out. I can be my most unbridled early in the morning, with fresh thoughts pouring out of me like a magical fountain. There are colors too, though you'll only be able to see them in the nighttime, when you're exhausted from your day.
I find coherence as I write. I allow myself to spit out the senseless first and try not to judge myself as I go. (All of us need to learn to not be too hard on ourselves) Later on, when I run my eyes over what I had previously written, the meek voice inside of me swells up, now suddenly awake upon running into a treasure or two. That's how I find my voice for the the day.
