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.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
