there is no feeling that kills me more than not being able to put my thoughts into words. i want nothing more than to blur my secrets in metaphors and stanzas, blend fiction and fantasies with reality, and feel that wave of relief when finishing a final draft. recently, my urge for inspiration has done nothing for me, i want to write but the stanzas always come up short, metaphors mediocre with recycled inspiration.
i have come to accept that sometimes words run through your veins and fill you with a high of ideas, but with those highs comes withdrawal. you develop an addiction to something you have to fight to find, and you can't force experience and emotion.
enjoy those highs but don't abuse them. write through the hard times, maybe their not as bad as you thought they'd be.
a/n: i'm sorry my updates have been so sporadic recently, i'm trying guys, i'm trying really hard.
YOU ARE READING
creating constellations
Poetryan abundance of space metaphors and you. #1 in poetry 6/7/16
