Saved perhaps for some other time, pictures carved from poetry are nearing expiration. Saved and then forgotten, I am forgetting what their purpose was.
Another long day finished and spent, I look forward to a night to myself. Just like thousands of other nights spent engulfed in myself, I still follow the beat of my early twenties. Changed but still relatively the same. I’m watching myself grow old in this manner, and sometimes it drives me to madness. Sometimes I can forget about age altogether. When I’m once again inspired by being uninspired, perhaps I will access all those carved pictures and broken verses and create what was once envisioned. When I am not so wrapped up in myself and am able to see beyond my own eyes and remember my reasons for keeping track, even if it is nonsense, maybe I will create something from scratch, something new.
Somewhat inspired this morning by a guest speaker, a poet, I now want to take his creative writing course. I think it might help my situation.