Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind
When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It's alright she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me Anything
Fly on little wing...
"These days, inspiration doesn’t pour out like it used to. It doesn’t flow easily. Doesn’t drip from my fingers like blood from cuts I didn’t ask for. Now I must pick at it. Must willingly pry off my healed scabs and bandaged wounds. Now, I seek it. Throw myself into the street to feel it. Strip my clothes off to send it slamming into my chest. Post photographs with my legs wide open, eyes defiant, head not hesitant. I call its name. Invite it into my bed. Stand naked in front of it and do not blink. I make myself into a bride for it. Wear the white veil and do not drag my feet. I tell it, I’ve missed you. I won’t leave so readily again. And then, when it sulks back into my corner, with head down and eyes no longer bearing suspicions, I sink my teeth into it, hard. I laugh at it. Let its name drip from my mouth and tell it, we’ve played this game so many times before, you’d think you would have learned. And we have. Again and again. We keep playing the same game of me chasing it into corners. Me fighting for it with a pot of coffee in my stomach. Me burning it into my hair as I stand shakily on rooftops in cities I do not know, next to people I have never met, in a body I am not sure I ever understood. We have, we know. But this is all there is. Cat and mouse. Me and my tricks. Confusion chasing Inspiration and ending up with a mouth full of words, only to spit them out and start again. And again. And again and again and again. This is all there is. There is nothing else."