Curse of the Blank Page

It mocks me. It whispers bits of inspiration that are too muffled to discern. Brilliance eludes. Palettes of words, ready to be blended into clever phrases and thought-provoking... I am at a loss. My brush has smeared words across this canvas that I cannot morph into “happy little” whatevers. Lines and erasures mar the once …

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No Excuses

Infused in my core, my being, my very essence. Entwined in my every move, every choice. They have become my go-to instinct and illusory shield. Nothing can touch me as long as they are woven believably enough into the fabric of reality. They whisper encouragement, wedging between myself and my better judgment, allowing for indulgence …

Brain Fog

Fuzzy. Lint matter replacing coherent thoughts, mental faculties, academic prowess... Skilled focus diverted towards vagaries as weighty as fluff. Deep wells of nothingness devouring time- consuming life. A blurred, meandering path extending in several impossible directions- all fading, fading... Fading into fuzzy, little lint matter... *** Imagine staring off into space with only an occasional …