...the time for professing and confessing. It's good to be honest and even better to improve upon recognized flaws.
I've tried so hard to lose this
placing my fingers in the keys, on the pen
on the paper, eyes on screen
and nothing but frustration comes over me
I've lost my words, my verbs
my inspiration
my station in rhetorical bliss
and I've pictured it
coming back to me repeatedly
Still it never shows
My freedom so closely intertwined
I can't imagine them being eternally locked in my head
but
I understand why I'm losing my mind
or losing touch of how to hold on to mine
I haven't seemed to be able to find the time
or the motivation
to reproduce my creative recreation
even though the heartache has been many and close between
it seems that I should stop fighting
my saving grace is dying
I can see them,
can't retrieve them,
used to breathe them
Search and pray as I may
I fear that I have lost...
... my words...
I understand that it's always good to fix and identifiable problem. Desperately in search of... that old thing...
