A Blank Mind Void of Inspiration

Woke up with a terrible headache, pounding this brain, spoiling the taste of the delicious mocha coffee I sip; tired of watching the urban morning news, troubles abound, so do my Holiday blues. And a blank mind void of inspiration adds to my unbearable, changeless woes; wouldn't someone cheer me up, and with a convulsion, revive my weak breath risking annihilation? Fresh air, crisp and fragrant, is needed into my lungs. A blue and bright sky isn't sought after when it's frigid, all my body wants to do is keep itself warm by this fireplace, watch the log's fire rising amid the reddish bricks of the chimney walls... imagining throngs of scintillating fireflies float on a mild summer's evening; wouldn't a hot bowl of chicken soup will revive me and do me good? And a blank mind void of inspiration can spend a whole day in idleness when thoughts do escape; and once they are gone, they are lost forever to memory and vision, but wouldn't this be an horrible thought to hold them in my grip, wanting them to stay...not to connote guilt? Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci