Writer's block. Of all shapes and form. Musically I can't find inspiration. Shorts bursts, but few and very far between. Lyrically my voice is gone. I can't find anything worth saying that can't be neutralized. I used to create situations from thin air in my head. The images I paint in my mind are still vivid, spectacular and breathtaking, but only I find them to be this way.

I've lost my voice. I've lost my reason. I've become, complacent. I've let society win. I see both sides. I've decided not to partake it's festivities. I'm careless, passionless, and selfish. I need to break this stoic mold.

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