I have been in a funk lately.  My intellect fails to establish a suitable description for the spent moments of late.  Clocks show time ravaged by the inexplicable.  There is an aftertaste of depression, the bitter smell of remoteness, in my eyes the sting of disorientation.  Lacking definition, it is a fugue state hovering about me, a fog of both mind and heart akin to a drowning of consciousness in the winter molasses of disorder.

Naked I stand within the swarm of inconceivable mental and emotional fatigues.  For reasons I myself fail to comprehend, my soul lies seared before the exquisite resonances of agony and abstraction, the victim of imprudent logic.  I am confronted by an enemy armored with disquiet and armed with irrationality.  It is unsettling that I know not how I came to be on this battlefield.

Worry besets me on every path.  Even my feet tremble carrying me forward.  Betwixt hope and fear, shadows run me through and through, dark and deep beasts of spirit eternal assailing me.

Even this undeniably self-indulgent mental outlet languished in a sea more regurgitative than creative, drowned by the suffering hands of a veiled foe unrecognizable to these human eyes.  Awash in foamy surf cast upon the shore lays the victim of primeval trickery that is I.  Defending myself from this adversary is, it would seem, beyond my abilities.  Of what indefatigable opponent do I speak?  I know not in a shockingly disgraceful exhibition of obliviousness.

Perchance a great many encumbrances now burden each step I take.  I wish I contained knowledge capable of imparting needed answers.

Breathing under the surface of this “uninspiration” takes the wind from my sails and leaves me adrift.  I forgo of my own accord Maslow’s fifth hierarchy of needs to which I promised myself long ago.

I know not whence this vile daze flows.