A four clove evening, one right after another while I sit at my desk, window open to the rain, and write.
There’s a problem with inspiration; it always comes at a cost, an attachment.
Funny how I see those things as one and the same.
But I want it. I want to peel back the skin and find something bloody and tender. Something to remind me why I still seek to possess something that by its nature is painful to share, and even more painful to lose.
Amen.
Because it’s worth it.
Hey there,
You wrote: “There’s a problem with inspiration; it always comes at a cost, an attachment.”
This is SUCH a profound statement, to me. So true and so painful.
Damn it, you’ve inspired me! Now I’m attached!
Hugs,
RG