Forgetful nights

Sometimes I forget how to write. The words don’t dance or appear majestically before my mind’s eye. The busy flow of thoughts are turned off at the tap. Words that so easily distract and entertain my passive mind, no longer come out for my active mind. I am a failure and a fraud, and everything I have written is a parlour trick or cheap show of smoke and mirrors. Sometimes much less so than that even.

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