My Inspiration
My inspiration falls like a
bowling ball through the floor.
I gaze at the building,
bubbling pit of ideas
that lives beneath me.
It stares up into my eyes.
The unnamed, unloved faces,
their histories forgotten,
plots not significant enough to pursue.
I care enough not to care.
I ease off into an uneasy state.
I bask in my own ignorance.
I choose to create my own world.
Clouds of promises pierce the perfect blue sky,
and birds sing songs of joy and love.
There are no rivers of putrid lies,
no whispers in the dark of treason.
When a lovers' touch is enough
to make a candle light,
where one can swim in an empty pool
of forgotten, unimportant words,
in this world,
I will find my inspiration.
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