I want to have new ideas, young thoughts, let them grow and mature, kids now to grow into adults later. Whether they be articles not yet written on prose not yet laid out. For whatever reason the well has gone dry. I know there is more warmth in thought and more food in ideas. I just need to find it. Keep with me, I have it somewhere in the head, it's just that that door is closed right now, I need to find my keys. Or, pick my locks and get in the kitchen, cooking up fresh thoughts while burning off the shit I don't need crowding out the goodness to see the light of day.