Finding Inspiration

My mind is heavy, full of sludge;
Thoughts come upon me slowly and lethargically.
A weight drills through my brain and
Causes a lack of focus---thoughts become muddled.
I reach out in desperation and panic
To maintain and nurture an elusive thought.
Inspiration still escapes me and parries
My every blow at conquest.
A fierce antagonist, cunning and swift
My own mind allows me no rest;
No solace at the prospect of creation.
Eloquent I am not, for the folly of my mind
Is that I cannot grasp the wraith
Of creativity nor maintain a tranquil state
In which to mold the clay of imagination.
Vivid scenes of snow-capped mountains
And towering pine trees are torn away;
Erased from my mind by the gods.
They’ve stolen my ways of elocution and left me
Stumbling over the simplest words;
Like an attempt to paint a scene with only primary colors.
I continue to mouth complex words
And grapple awkwardly in a hopeless battle with vocabulary.
At last, frustration overwhelms me
And I hurl my unfinished work across the room
To collapse in a cacophony of fluttering pages
That scream out in protest---they’ve been abandoned
Yet again. Storming from the room I concede defeat,
Only to try again tomorrow.