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inspiration and the juices that run dry.

I awoke from the disturbing dream with a clue as to how I wanted to write… Now I find myself struck by a lack of inspiration… It flowed out of me one minute, but then subsided as the frenzy lost its momentum… I write some disturbing stuff to launch it from my brain to yours… This is my sickness, my crude artistic merit under layers of bitter wit and droll humor, but I strive forward even as I feel I am only writing to a limited audience… Sleep has become a sport for edging closer to the remaining ideas intermingling within me… The dreams a harbinger for unreal ideas made out of pictures visualized in this state of listlessness… Does this shell feel as I do?… I sit and wonder where I am going with these ideas… The mad fetish for future landscapes and disturbing imagery… What am I Here to disprove?… I await a time when it seems valid beyond a shadow of a doubt to write what comes to me… The meaning within these words I use, but is there a benefit to throw all this out at you, dear reader?… I have so much material to draw from… I don’t get high as often as I would like anymore, but when does even this small thing change?… A captivating claim to want to see this through to the end… My tales run the gamut of slow emotion to perverse drama to violent display, and still it seems slow to acknowledge what I am doing as truth to myself… I yearn to free these artistic queries lodged somewhere deep inside, and I read from others that have lead a similar route to this exact doorstep… I write because the world bugs me, the small details sometimes escaping me for a larger view of the madness, but still I hear more than the voices in my head… The shadows precede us under the bright sunlight, and I keep seeing these fantastic plateaus with fierce shamelessness… I want so much recognition, but fear the implications of popular approval… These late night sessions offer release from demons that percolate to the surface in cryptic abandon, but even I get lost in the tempest set before me… With feelings of change, the coming of another work day, and I still want the future set in stone… A greasy satisfaction that sweats out of me… I hope I can inspire others to tell it how they wish it to seem…

Thanks, khet.