Life seems to consume very part of me
All of the creativity that used to pour out of me like lava
is now dormant
Always there just beneath the surface
Just waiting to burst out
In a volcanic eruption
Or maybe it’s just that I don’t make time
I let time slip away
I’m hungry for the urge to create again
Where is my muse
How do I wake the burst waiting to come out of me
When I am dragged down
By the monotony of
Every day life.