The mice are running rampant and all I hear are toes, it's no fault of mine but I'm craving

purple prose.

My fingers drum endlessly as I hear upon my vision; an invisible thread, trust my decision.



I've crumpled more papers than I care to count, they lie on the floor of my study, the grave of ideas as it were, and now the only thing my quill cares to trace are these words, wrought with sheer madness, no direction and no passion, only hopeless sounds tied to one another through a series of rhymes.

Goodness me how the hour is late, I've just lit my second, no.. third candle and gods do I need sleep.. Yet this tireless droning in my mind, I can't bring myself to craft as my muse has long since abandoned me, with ever so much scorn. Nor can I bring myself to sleep, as madness takes it's place, I mumble quietly, I do my best to avoid making friends with the flickering shadows that welcome themselves in droves into my abode.

Art is fire and life, as I come to find it refuses to rest, I remain at it's heedless mercy, a slave unto the willing and cruel master of my own design. There's a small moth on my desk I've taken to calling Alfried, he's the only one that won't keep me awake as I stumble across the wastes of my shattered mind.
Please help me, my mind won't stop drumming, and it would be rude of me to ask. I need my rest but I can't keep my head from the darkest places, nor can I reel it in long enough for my muse to believe I'm telling the truth. Besides, next door has the best coffee in town, and I couldn't take them from that. You know how much he likes his coffee.


Help~

..

I mean Enjoy~



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I've woken up in the middle of the night to bring you.. THIS. Commissions tomorrow, brain is broken. Reboot.