Inspirations?
Sometimes there’s inspiration in my coffee cup swirling like the cream I pour in I used to drink it as black as black can be But as I slowly grow older it bites back with heart burn theories
Sometimes there’s a story in the steam rising off so hot it burns my hands as I sip Sitting at my kitchen island typing on a keyboard that doesn’t agree with anything I do anymore
And sometimes, it just stares at me with judging eyes hidden in the handle Telling me that no one cares and all the work I’m doing is for not I’m just a joke on a web page A sympathy click so the misery poet doesn’t feel bad With no style to call his own
I fill it cup or after cup after cup until I start to tremor from the caffeine and I try to strum my guitar looking for inspirations to write more whiny garbage about that girl who stole my heart but I end up just feeling sick stepping on the porch for a cigarette and
Sometimes I find inspiration in the curling of the smoke as in inhale and exhale my suicide pacts staring at the blank page on my phone it mocks me and shocks me and sometimes this even works
Someday, there’s nothing and I waste away under the covers of my bed there’s a million words twisting around but not one of them makes any sense within my head and so I stare up at the ceiling as sitcoms from the nineties laughs become the only thing to comfort me
I am my worst judge of character And I’m afraid I don’t have much else to say
