'An Empty Hour'

That feeling. 
Inspiration and desire, necessary interruption. 
And you have to. 
Work, play or conversation irrelevant. 


It's pen and paper or death. 


Stone, steady and surrounding you. 
        To be found almost anywhere, 
        To be everywhere overlooked. 
We take for granted. 


That helplessness. 
You need to run and jump and scream and cry
But you won't. That's not acceptable. 
Silly, even. 


Bless. 


If only you could understand mystery, 
Retain the deleted. 
It's not the act in itself, 
It's the consequence. The feeling that goes with it. 
The relief of stresses unloaded. 
A denatured enzyme, a pretty stranger, a warm embrace. 
Incapable of no, you indulge. 
Yes, 
       Yes, 
              Yes.


Then nothing. 


Another feeling. 
Same result. You find a rock, that same stone. 
I am creating a story to be misunderstood, 
I am told; 


Welcome to adulthood. 




1.6.12 ~ The Tainted.