The impurities of inspiration.
There are times when I feel I might lose my life to inspiration.
There are times when I feel I may drown in shallow water
due to afflictions directly related to slowly becoming utterly uninspired.
I'm incredibly inspired at all the wrong times, or about the wrong things.
Like the way I get blisters from shoes I've worn for years,
like suddenly I walk differently than I did before.
Like they're really not my shoes at all.
Like the person who wore them before weighed on their toes and not their heels, they way I do.
Some days it's as though every pair of shoes I own is secondhand and the print inside isn't mine and never was.
I force myself to walk in these shoes, miles, to prove they're mine, to prove this is me.
And as I walk I can feel the blisters forming, but I press on, determined,
even when the skin has broken and each step I take burns a little more than the last.
And when I remove each shoe I know it's my blood that stains the fabric.
And in this way, I've marked them
and they are mine.