vacuum of our own creation

creativity, that nagging inner
out of nowhere
whenever, wherever it sleeps
roaming around making
dissatisfied noises
scraping words against
the thin wall of your brain pan
it's hard just being
living this singular moment
among the millions, billions
reasons, excuses
simple arcing explanations
lonely just next door
living cookies without milk
distantly railing against
other people's moments
lonely bar fridge room