iron and sulphur

a magical journal
of attempts and results
to contact myself
the echo chamber of my self
and the echo is not answered
as it once was
by the muse and the burning
need to write and rhyme
with assonance and consonance
I used to know that hidden holy part of myself
and I called it inspiration
but somehow it was tied to sadness and sorrow
that felt more real than myself
like my personality was a peel on the outside of a bitter fruit
pit and pith and juice of cold iron and sulfur