we are so consumed with, what is referred to as, consuming thoughts
-the ones that eat our brains out till we cannot think for ourselves
it's like someone, or even something, has traded our mind for a slab of clay
with this slab of clay we must create art
it'll make us feel like we need to tear everything apart
we'll start from scratch, over and over again till our head is shaking with aches and pains
-but still we continue to make whatever we are doing into its best form
because we don't want to stop till we are no longer disappointing ourselves and even after it's perfect
we are still left in despair
because we are writers,
with yet again another empty slab