I find when my head is filled with impenetrable dread,

And clouds of grey and deep blues hover above my head,

That what floats within my mind’s eye and what is seen ahead,

Are the only things that lift me from my bed.

 

Dreams that flurry, fluster and beam,

Nightmares that claw, gnash, and scream,

Doesn’t matter to me whether during the night or day,

To include these inspirations into my art there is always a way. 

 

Stores and shops all lined in a row,

Color bricks beneath my feet below,

In every step is a story and every sight there is an image,

Despite my thoughts in a constant and anxious scrimmage.

 

Rain and thunder giving the air a stench,

The thoughts of hiding away from problems within a trench,

Bad or good these constant rambling of thoughts mean something to me,

Even if not all of them are filled with glee.

 

My inspirations are often melancholy, dreary, or meek,

But the color and flames within me they inspire are never weak. 

I find when my head is filled with impenetrable dread, 

The art within my heart and mind are never dead.