I’m drawing a blank as I sit here and stare
trying to force something out of thin air
I just know I need to get this outta my system
without doing so, I'll still be missing my freedom
But making a Something with absolutely Nothing
is scientifically against the idea of making
So as time drags on, I continue to lose
this face to face battle against the blank canvas' muse
The want and desire to present something of worth
to properly articulate this thought into birth
I just cannot do; I know, its unthinkably true
so all that's presented is this ramble so blue

The ideas were there, nearly burgeoning into existence
except they all rushed for the door, creating resistance
this reactive force, so great against them it pushed
that they were all completely overwhelmed in a whoosh
No chance to succeed, they all gave each other
dooming the next into thoughts a-smothered
which brings me back to the thesis of this representation
showing that, sometimes, too much can create miscommunication
With signals jumbled and nothing coming through
What else really did you expect me to do?

01.12.10, 11.51pm-12.06am
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Wanted to write
Din't know what to write.

I think that much was literally obvious.