SYSTEM OF A DOWN

In mind he was tierd, worn out by years of hope deferred, of lonliness, of unrewarded toil.

In body he was almost prostrate by the pain.

Bodily pain stung him like a personal affront " Someone will have to be made miserable for this ", he once said during the thores of an excrutiating toothache with a malicious gleam in his eyes...

He was no stranger to mental fatigue, but when to that was added corporeal anguish, and self induced imsommnia --he came very near total collapse.

He capacity for work was constricted; the mere sight of his writing material filled him with dread, But because he had a horror of being discovered in a state of inaction, after breakfast he sat down and as usual tried to write -- to fill the empty screen which seemed to him to be mocking him.

Dazed in a torrent of ideas, he painfully waited for the words to start flowing, but remained stumbling in a maze of disjointed ramblings., he frequently lost the thread of his argument, now and then, in sheer exhaustion of thinking up something to write he looked at the half filled screen, trying very hard indeed to string two coherent thoughts together... but the effort drained him..and he slumped in his chair and thought about the futility of it all and once again cursed the block which had stolen his writing from him...

The words refused to flow as they had once done and this in turn resulted in a depressing sadness creep slowly all over him. It wasn't the meloncholic ecstacy which he was emanoured to but a much darker, sadder mood which seemed to overpower him and disturb his solitude as he tried to feed off his nostalgia about the good ole days when he had been wedded to words... This recent divorce was not to his liking and he hated it...yes absolutely hated it.....

It was a nightmare and he wished he would wake up and smell the coffee....