23:30 Monday

November 7, 2016 § Leave a comment

It’s on the edge of the cliff again, creativity, I can feel it, just there out of reach, sat in my stomach wanting to claw its way aggressively to my mouth and be heard or seen, but it doesn’t come, like solid vomit it sits heavy in the gut, I wanna scream with frustration, I wanna punch my self till it pours from me, till every blank page is soaked in it, then I’d sit and say “there it is”, but I scream and there’s sound, but it’s silent, meaningless, and I scream again, and there’s nothing, I am running from person to person I shake them from the shoulders and I scream in their faces, I want to say the things I need to say, but I speak like a mute, the words are noise, but they are silent, it’s moved up into my head, the words the sounds the images, I need to take a hammer to the box, to free the thoughts from within and let them run all over me, but I can’t, I am pathetic, I am a coward, I blame the city, I imagine swatting it with a giant hand, and pound it into dust whilst I scream and cry, there must be something to blame, and they restrain me and pin me to the ground, and I try to tell them of the images inside the sounds, the words, but I am roaring at them and they are afraid, we are all cowards.

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