Blank

An emptiness fills my mind when I pick my pencil.Why do my thoughts run wild in fear. I see the magnificent works of others and wonder if I’m in the right space. Well maybe I am lost …….

Confusion is an understatement, I wonder at times if it’s even possible to reach that point,that point of satisfaction and fulfillment . What if I’m never satisfied tho?

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My mind is filled with impossibly beautiful ideas but the paper on which I work bleeds of inadequacy

The route on which I tread is awfully confusing. I may be walking into thorns which would prick me for life, arh

Those lemons life gives are way too sour even for lemonade but the level of expectancy remains unchanged

Hmm my blank mind