I am not inspired.
The gray skies and familiar faces do not impress me.
Why can’t I think of a single thing?
It’s frustrating, you know.
Just constantly thinking of ways I can get some thoughts going.
Brewing and churning,
They aren’t there.
I’m trying too hard, I am aware.
But still,
Why is there never a thought that I can bear?
There are mediocre ones, don’t get me wrong.
The ones that people have recited and sung,
They are already done.
Already fresh in the minds of young learners,
The ones like me, who, for the life of them,
Just cannot get inspired.
I’m running of out ideas pretty quickly.
Love, death, life, beauty, the ocean;
They’ve already been discovered.
As Modest Mouse has already recovered:
“We know everything.”
There isn’t anything more.
We know everything.
We’ve heard everything.
There isn’t a lot that hasn’t been discovered, or so it seems.
I still believe that there are unicorns out there,
Waiting to be found.
Every idea has already been polished.
And of course, every single word has been said.
Why do we need new music?
New movies?
New art?
Everything’s already been presented.
Unless you believe otherwise.
Please,
Inspire me.