Synopsis In Spoken Rhythm

Sometimes
I feel dead.
Stagnant
As though absolutely nothing
Will ever change.
I've been oblivious recently
In a world of nights
Spent clattering away.
No more clattering, now, though
For now my easel has changed
From hard, unforgiving plastic
Loud and easily abused
To supple rubber
Quiet and tolerant
Of crumbs and spilled tea.
I suppose some things change
And for the better, even
But not on a grand scale.
Running dry on inspiration?
No, never really that
Just inspiration of a different flavour
A flavour only one person likes
And I save it for her.

I've got the Pumpkins in
Haunting, throbbing music
A perfect backdrop for my blank thoughts.
I spend so much of my time these days
Doing absolutely nothing
Frittering away my last days of childhood
Shying away from the horrors of Reality.
I'm doing okay though
Got a job - keeping my job!
But nothing's happening
Nothing's changing
The CD, perhaps
Or my keyboard
But nothing truly notable.
It's like every day I act the same script
But with a slightly altered setting.

Rambling on never felt so empty.

-sin sin-