Ghazal of the Uninspired

Lately it's been hard to feel inspired.
Every taste is chalky, every meal uninspired.

Fruit spoils fast, the bread won't rise.
The air smells oily, stale, uninspired.

The soup is bland as the window view.
Fingers trail no shapes in dust, uninspired. 

Sleep is late, is hard to come by. Dreams
dissolve—unremembered, uninspired.

In the mirror, the planes of your face are angled
and sharp. Color and shine feel uninspired.

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