Inspire ☥ Self-para/Open para

_{The frustration lay deep in his bones as he stared upon the canvas, his dead heart screeching as if it had been alive, yet it were not. “God damn us all”, he snarled out, a growl in his voice as he slammed the paint brush down upon the table and turned, started pacing with restless passion shackled and chained. It was not working. Nothing was working! Whenever his brush touched the canvas it stuttered and faltered, it swayed forth on unsteady legs as if a newly born foal.}

_{For someone with so many year of experience ingrained in his muscles, it was a disheartening reality. Art was hiding from him. Art was evasive, inspiration even more so; it taunted him and haunted him and danced in the shadowed corners of his mind—just out of his reach.}

_{“Fie!” he exclaimed in disgust, swirling around, and before he knew it his fist connected with the wall in a fit of fury, his mind seething with tensed frustration playing tricks on his patience. The wall of the rented atelier room groaned and cracked under the force before his fist lay curled and still against the white, dented surface. Stilled. The tremble in the door leading to the hall tentatively came to a rest.}

_Breathe.