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Lackluster Shellacking
Feeling sluggish, shelled.
Lithely lingering in the dust and grime.
Palette grey and dull, devoid of crisp bright hues,
Brushes all furry, frayed, blunt, incapable of fine detail.
Apathy and complacency palls to gloom and doom in my room.
Inactivity and being non-committal, chokes the creative urge, to be stillborn.
But then, words and poetry flood into the brain during sleepless nights.
There's no stopping it.
Its spell, dispels the squashes, and quells the squishes to splats.
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