Set down like dirty dishes stacked high.
Another day will come and go without use of creative juices to fuel the next step.
Years maybe? Feels like it. What so lit me alite before, has only sparked my interest occasionally by others who do it well.
Time. I say. More
As if cramming more hours down my throat would squelch something haunting.
Haunted. Not by fears or expectations, recognition or responsibility.
By sheer need. True possession. Absolute sincerity of self.