Writer's Block

I don’t know what to do. I am just so confused. All my thoughts are swirling around in my head, fighting for dominance. I should sleep, but I cant. What will I think about when darkness entombs me. There is just too much to think about. Too much happening and yet not enough…

I am saturated with the old same stuff. Everyday adds a new dimension to the old pattern. Enough to satisfy my parched throat not enough to quench my thirst. By nightfall, it is all gone. Wrung dry like the linen on the cloth line.

My creative soul aches for inspiration. But my eyes see nothing new. All I can do is add texture to a completed picture. But colour? My spirit desires colours to draw me out of this black and white world.

I should perhaps read. Oh, but what? I have read it all before. I quote it in my sleep… when I get sleep. I want something new to read about. I need something new to read about. I need something upon which I can create the key. The key that will let me enter into my world of make believe. But the ideas are old and the words stale. Wherever you wish to go, I have been there before. Like a weary traveler, I roam the world. In search of new places, new lands to conquer, only to find the world is round. Finite.

Emotions like wheels are easily worn. They will take you to the highest peaks and lowest depths, time and time again. But the sites revisited, soon loose their novelty. The scenery fades, like the setting sun, bringing darkness in its wake. Still, still the wheels roll on, in search of new roads.

The journey through life is like a story told. With each new day a new chapter enfolds. But when the ink dries, and the pen can find no more words, that is when one seizes to live but continues to exist. This existence is torture to both my mind and soul. Yet, through this pain, hope still lingers. The only light through the cloud of confusion.

I await the day when the sun will rise, when the light will dispel the darkness and show me what my aching eyes have dreamed of seeing. Show me the doorway through which I can enter that world again, my world again. The world to which only I have the key.