| My creative muses are floundering in redundant metaphors. Swamped by the floodwater of doubt and indecision. My thoughts are like so many flotsam and jetsam bobbing in the swirling eddies of malignant currents. Conspiring to deny the release of cogitation and conjecture all inspiration is capsized by a tidal wave of perplexity. Illiterate girders lie before my stalled train of thought threatening to derail any brainwave advancement. Malformed ideas and notions deny a head of steam combustible material yet they fail to stoke the fire for they burn like paper and are all too quickly consumed. Double agents of insight gather in anarchical troupes like Indians around the encircled wagons of my psyche one by one my inspirations are scalped and left for dead my minds scavengers pick at the bones like a murder of crows A malevolent entity watches smugly over the carnage in vain seek it out, a fleeting shadow in my mind. In the corner of my minds eye I thought I caught a glimpse yet it only stops to mock and then relocates… it is my writer's block. |