Others Do, While I Mourn

I wait and delay demoralized by the talent converted by perseverance that’s celebrated out there. On the street the digital, the analogue. I’m scared because my creations are boring alas each and every time the reaction I get is excitement and support. I myself block my path towards what would make me into a man not haunted by anxiety of the past. I can be there for myself to trust and believe what I have to say. Unfiltered, spineless, prodigious. At one point I have to accept this inner turmoil is not interesting to anyone but me and those who I pay in items and in kind to take interest in my life.