Longing For That Point In Time

Living off yesterday's inspirations
Wringing the blood from one more
Body of work, one more symbol
Of more prosperous times....
How many times have I called you
Since I chased you away,
And I never called you in dream,
In song, in the ebony silkiness
Of some frivilous depression;
I forsaked you, even when you
Bestowed upon me the words
That explained what I used to
Be able on my own:
The inner workings of my psyche,
The reason I felt a certain way,
I was in tune with my rythyms,
I could take down the notes without
Missing a beat....
Today's inspirations not worth the breath,
So I breathe in and waste that
Which I was given, letting it all pass by
Challenging bordem with atrophy....