The pleasure of the drunk

The pleasure of the drunk

"Write drunk; edit sober" -Ernest Hemingway.

Inspiration is my warrior of light!
I've never been so inspired. It feels like I'm colored with all the colors that exist in our world and in different worlds. Like I'm walking through every thought I once abandoned and put on the shelf like an old book. Inspiration is like the hand that wipes the dust off abandoned books and cleans the shelf. The hand that takes yours and leads you to a path where everything is possible, where imagination is the air you breathe and words are the water you drink. Where ideas are palpable and every little thing triggers you to write.
It makes you walk down the street looking at everything just differently, not how your eyes perceive them on daily basis. You write poems on smiles, compose songs on laughs, draw the world on hope, and paint the sky on hand touches. It makes you so vulnerable to falling in love, in love with just anything and everything; the simplest things you would've never thought of. Moreover, it is your light to appreciate even the ugliest things, for their entity could one day be an inspiration to you, or any drunk-on-inspiration artist.
And then, you ponder. You realize that a look is a constellation, a tree is a haiku piece, sunset is love song, winter is Neruda and summer is Shakur. You get that you, mind, body, soul and heart are the element of what your imagination perceives. And your muse is your addiction.
And I'm addicted. I'm addicted to that imagination that makes me so weak before the pages of my notebook and the spaces on my blog. I'm addicted to words, to the laughs, to smiles, the sky, the sundown and sunrise, to strangers and friends, to colors and seasons, to darkness and light. I just can't get enough.
And finally that I'm drunk, I don't want to be sober ever again. It's a pleasure to be addicted.























P.S Neruda is Pablo Neruda, and Shakur is Tupac Shakur. Both poets of passion.