Shut the door to the moon
Let the birds gather
Play no more with the fools
And let the souls wander
And bleed
Our friends that are lost at sea
Throw down
And I'll break the wasted space
Slow down
Slow down
———
A bit melancholy, (more than) a bit stressed, a bit self-grudging, a bit lonely.
Pensive music and a cherry-blossom scented candle are keeping me company.
It's a very calm sort of chaos.
[Heart of this post:] Every day, I am constantly inspired, and so little inspiration takes the shape of actualizeable ideas. Even less of it comes to any fruition.
I'm going to sleep.
I know what you mean about not being able to translate inspiration into anything. That has been plaguing me for a while. I keep imagining these incredible moments or pictures and I want to draw them or paint them or something, but I just don't have the skill. And I'm much too lazy to put for the effort of practicing to reach that skill level. And when I feel inspired to write, I lack the self discipline to push myself to sit down and take the time to do it.
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