I miss writing. My ignoring words that pour from my ears and into the night is not a product of lacking inspiration or desire. Rather, it's a result of discovering the simple salvation of hiding behind a camera lens.
It's far more facile to snap a picture of an image leaving interpretation to obscurity than to part your ribcage and reveal through language and rhythm the color of haunted organs.

Maybe I'll find the gall to emerge from darkened corridors and speak through whispers on a page before poetic intricacy is lost to stagnation.