Demotivate

A crude heap of half-grown ideas,

aborted before they became self aware,

haunt the slick insides

of this uncouth layer of skin I wear

so tightly.

I feel sparks spit and fizzle,

sputtering into invisible ash

without any kindling of substance

to consume.

I am a body of these useless sparks,

flashes of light that will never constitute flame.

I am full of beginnings

but bereft of conclusions.

I am unable to create.

All I can do is imagine.