Bloated

I sat alone today, in the first memory we never made.

In the place that blossomed an idea,

Of what we never were.

How enlightened was I,

Wretched deception.

I’m not soaking anymore,

Bloated; I detonate.

Months of disregarded inspiration,

At bay, consciousness coated in depression.

Mental confinement breeds dollops of vision,

Mandible tension; single sentences dribble down my lower lip.

Mind unloaded, creative rudiments litter my notebook,

I strike a match and let my spirit burn.