Current state:

Uninspired. 
Failing to use the gift, once absent, now again. 
Yet, I find myself in a forcefully postured state of positivity, as though I assume it to be just a phase. 
My mind wanders, trying to take outside suggestions from random media, searching for a spark, the flame of another, anything to set fire to my creativity again. 
It feels hopeless, and it proving to be more and more. 
Tonight is the first time I've written anything I care to read again or go over in almost a year. 
My stints, (as they were), were indeed just that; stints.

But for some time now there have been no stints, no emotions to extrapolate, no provincial issues from which to extort meaning, no truth to reality other then it exists and I am purely existing with it. 

How did I ever do it... and what can ever break this current state....