I haven't been able to write lately I've
not really been able to think
the pills have plugged the holes in my head that
let in the gremlins of self-destruction
but those same holes seem to have been the ones that let in
air

so my creativity is suffocated
wilted
I'm used to having more ideas and flights of inspiration than I can usefully develop
and now there's a roaring silence and overwhelming
emptiness
a flatness

I don't feel like myself and I certainly don't feel like an
artist
I am trying to appreciate the absence of the urges to
hurt myself,
 the fading of the wish to be dead
but I'm caught up in anxiety about not having the wish
to do
or create
anything