comes over you: the power,
and the knowing, and the juice
pours out from Some Other Source
while you watch and dip, amazed.
But on demand --now that's
a different story: flames begin to rise,
these words and images,
once refreshing, now molten,
burning their way through
onto the page, accompanied by
the steady toxic drip of fear
of failure: can she do it on demand,
will inspiration flow, or will
the pressure turn to acid,
and eat away that bright core
of hope and possibility.
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