So lately I haven't been able to finish any of the material I have written, I seem to be blocked, or ran out of inspiration, don't quite understand how this works, and lord know I have lots of material but I just cant seem to bring my self to write an ending to anything, even now I'm not sure how ill end this post, I'm writing until inspiration stars flowing over me; alcohol sometimes might be the answer but to what question, shall I resort to external means of inspiration, empty hollow meaningless factors that will heighten my senses, so I can truly see, that inspiration lies with in our hight, trapped behind a door in the back of our minds, which we need a magical key to tap in to; I don't want to believe this, how ever wine now runs through my veins, and warms my throat and heart, I feel the red veil lifting and turn this vain piece of writing in to verses that intertwine with one another, turning reality in to a pink and purple blur, oh how I wish this feeli...
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