i play sad tunes.

like a paint brush without color
im on an inspiration draught again
there were tunes playing in my head
but there wasnt any sparkle of creativity

i ran my fingers thru the electric keyboard
i plucked a few guitar strings
i laid the point of my pen on papers
nothing came out tho.

the feeling is like a traveler coming back to the same coffee shop over and over again
over and over again, he stayed in a same place without moving on.
i couldnt get out of my own thought

and so,
the recorder recorded the voices of desperation