why do i not feel inspired to write
when i feel so much inside
so much turmoil
confusion
and emotion?
i cannot speak to the muse
i cannot ask
she will not speak to me
her mouth goes dry at my whims
and my mouth goes tired by asking

inspiration.

what an awkward word
is there such thing?
or is everything i've ever writ
just a whole bunch of nonsense
made beautiful by inversions
and fancy diction?
i don't know
all i know is that i don't have anything
to write about
nothing at all

so forget what i wrote above
it means nothing
because i've lost my divine inspiration
hence my words have no meaning

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