What’s left out there to inspire me anymore?
My mind’s dry sense of humor
Feels like a foot in the coffin door.
So I’m just wondering – what are we aiming for
By blundering in thunder
With heels achy and soar.
It almost seems like I’ve lost all the passion,
Left it out for the fiends
To steal, abuse and just cash in.
My thoughts are sometimes the worst distraction,
They’re coded in Morse,
Only encrypted in small fractions.
The brain struggles to put a single sentence together
Until I’m all out of moral debts,
No ties left to severe.
So what’s really inspiring me in this icy weather?
The creativity’s refusing to humor me,
Each new day lasts forever.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 