Plots from creative depression

My capricious Muse! Fragile and delicate creatures! You loved me, were drawn to my torso, bringing me in their muslin wings of inspiration, the fiery faith and confidence in their abilities. Why left their home and forgot the way to my yard? Guess you don’t go that I’m conceited, lazy. My former glory and success went to my ghostly greatness. I became arrogant, forgot friends, look down on people. Don’t hear their comments, advice, direct, honest, objective, sometimes so truthful that they become an insult to my imaginary dignity. But it is not so!

Painful imagination of conceit and arrogance has robbed me of friends, colleagues, fans and students. Since then, and Muse as too sensitive indicators of the soul and catalysts high voltage of inspiration and of creative force, left me, my home, my art. I ate too much laziness. Laziness crept into my heart, the brain is an important vessel and capillary. I can feel my arteries flows not blood, but cold drowsy or lethargic laziness. I was afraid of everything new and latest, but not the liver, is not established. But how much and till I sleep and fear. I shrugged, open your eyes. to look hot with passion for this charming, mysterious and unique world. I was deaf and blind, but now I see clearly. I hear the sound of the sky, fields, forests, meadows. I hear melodies every blade of grass, birds and insects. I choke from the Eroica Symphony the speech of people. I see paint blue rivers and lakes. I be in tune with the tense and hard work of the people. I feel very ashamed of my fictional greatness. People work hard for daily bread, and I’m the stepchild of the people, miss, imbued with the sadness. Smoke cigarettes, empty from lack of alcohol containers and spit himself in the soul. Only! Enough. I stop doing nothing! .. Down with nicotine, let him be accursed green dragon. Wine and vodka drowned more men than the sea, my people. I shrugged. Coming back to me restored faith and hope. Coming back to me renewed inspiration. I’m with you, my people! I’m your son (daughter). Your pain and shook my cares and worries. Your misfortune is my grief. Your victory is my pride. Your happy mouth – my hope and joy. I Was Born With. Coming back to me the strength and confidence in my work and my art. I see how pure sky-blue tend to my house of the muses: Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polyhymnia, Urania and calliope. You are most welcome, my beauties! Turn me lazy and phlegmatic loafers into a real artist. I belong to you I belong to poetry art. Large, complex, wise, unique. I bow my head before the high authority, my dear and inspired by the fairies and welcome.