Sweet Munchausen

Have you ever felt real inspiration, the real glorious, intrepid glow of immaculate existence?  It almost clouds your mind, but only the unexposed believe that.  The facets that inspire never cloud the thoughts of its admirers, only stimulate, encourage, beckon more and more.  Squeeze more out of you until you are so dehydrated that all you can accomplish is lying still, panting and staring about the room in a daze.  A ravenous hunger for more, just as more is bring sucked out of you.  (Ask St. Theresa) Inspiration is a parasitic kind of relationship.  It hunts, it captures, it tortures, but Munchausen leaves you alone, naked, shivering and admiring.  Thirsting for more in a lust so uncontrollable it overpowers every silent virtue.  

Inspiration is a drug.  The most potent natural stimulant, depressant, and hallucinogen anyone can find.  It's addiction lasts beyond death, it's addiction leads to premature death, its addiction becomes your only survival.

Real inspiration is so sweet, none can withstand it, none are immune to it.  There are only those that are too dank, dim, and decrepit to recognize it. To harness it.