Impotent creative energy is the bane of my conscious mind. Whole words die stillborn in my mind as I sit, pondering, whole peoples and cultures and even pantheons rise and fall with the whim of my thoughts, to be forgotten only minutes or hours later as I let them go. For, I have nothing to do with them, no place for them. I cannot create in ways that would bring them into reality.
Words are not enough. Images are not enough. Music is not enough.
And no way can I ever bring my creations to frutation.

And somehow... I am alone.