Thoughtless repetition.

The rain trickles against my window a constant and bold but comforting sound, the clicks of my clock present but muffled by the sound of my mind, i want to write this urge to create is strong, however my mind is still or rather stuck, i don't feel frustrated but muzzled by my own mind, my fingers shake idly i want to move to feel the satisfaction my hands flowing commanded by my minds passion, however i am stuck and so i rise from my chair and leave my room,

My steps tap softly against the tile, the halls are dim and dark yet i walk with ease, experience from countless years of repetition, the ever familiar feeling of the cold as it forces itself through my thin windows, my hands brush against the kitchen counter thoughtlessly, my eyes roam around the kitchen which they have wandered countless times looking for inspiration where it is not present,

I sigh like i have oh so many times i hesitate for a moment before turning and walking once again, i walk through the the hallway i've stumbled through more times than i could comprehend, i twist the faded doorknob and hear the loud but subtle creak of the door, i enter my feet tapping against the same rug i've had for years, i fall into the same bed with the same pillows and i sleep at the same time in the same way i always have, repetition truly is a comforting yet uneasy thing.