That place in my brain that lurks and prowls

There is a place in my brain called boredom; it surfaces every now and then. Lurking and brooding, trying to drain my motivation dry. It's like a demon from within who prowls my subconscious mind. I'm not sure what tempts it to emerge, but when it does there is no controlling it. It hides like a predator stalking its prey, slithering and hissing in the background until it feels the moment is right, and then it unleashes a deadly fury, its lethal coil strangling the very breath from my soul, the poison seeping through me, numbing my reflexes, contaminating my thought processes, killing my productivity.

I submit to it, submerged in its dominance. Powerless, weak, and frail in my rationale to resist and overcome its tightening grip, I become a shadow within a shadow, a victim to this hungry beast that will stop at nothing to engulf my waking mind, to bite chunks out of my sanity and paralyse me to a state of vegetation. I sit twitching, my focus on the clock, that slow turning wheel that will eventually become my saviour and draw the beast back to the abyss of its lair.

As I cowl under the might of this beast, my brain; now a soiled sponge, drips away my thoughts like raindrops on a sunny day, they gather in a collective pool, magically bright and building in strength, and the beast of boredom recoils and snarls, it hisses and slithers and puts up a fight, but the thoughts rise up, they spin and they brew into the storm of storms, and from within that madness emerges a new creature, mightier and bolder, unstoppable in its quest to imagine and create a world within worlds. It towers over the beast of boredom; it’s menacing presence forcing it to retreat and drain back into the deepest depths of my mind.

Now that I have surpassed this boredom, I write to my hearts content, words that flow like never-ending steams which burst over the rocks and merge to embrace into a powerful waterfall that runs deep into the sea of creativity. The more that I write, the greater it flows, and all the while the beast of boredom lays quiet in its place, just waiting, the hunger expanding.