During a chat with a friend, was discussing how individuals differ in their motivation to perform. Realised and have been realising that I am not a strongly self-motivated person. Need constant stimuli, if i'm to move on! I'm not self wound. Need that spark to ignite, key to wind, or even a dagger over my head to wind up. Constantly seeking inspiration, the absence of which instils a bogged down sense of ennui, that seems to creep and extend its tendrils with alarming speed. Have to keep chopping them off and de-tangle before its too late. Being a true piscean, get submerged in deep waters, and have to come up for air and sunshine too!

Death does steal upon us,
the mortal race we are
cease to remember, we are.

At times it seems, it
treads slowly but surely
as it draws or creeps closer.

Can one stall it, or even
foresee, or slay its
fangs as it descends.

Eerie is not the word
the darnedest sensation
is wafting by.