still alive, but just barely, haha

extremely low creativity levels over here.

i feel like this:

O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth,
Oppress'd with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,
Aware now that amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, 
But that before all my arrogant poems the real Me stands yet untouch'd, untold, altogether unreach'd, 
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows, 
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written, 
Pointing in silence to these songs, and then to the sand beneath.

I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single object, and that no man ever can, 
Nature here in sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me, 
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all.
-walt whitman

and this:

“All nature works, and then rests; works and rests. I caught its rhythm and worked and rested with it. When I felt that inertia stealing over me, I rested; and while resting my power recuperated – the tide rose in me.”
-Elizabeth Towne