About the frustrations of not being able to convey your thoughts, and also writing to the crowd, instead of for yourself. This poem doesn't quite convey my thoughts right, which is entirely the point.

A celestial being resides
Inside my mind.
Maiden goddess
Glorious images-
Thoughts of pure
Virginal beauty.
Like a far away ocean
Unattainable and perfect
With a throat-aching love
All my own
Don't try to understand it
For it is too deep
Too perfect.

These feelings
These words-
My words
Lie strewn
Naked against
Your leering eyes
They quiver-
Shallow and ashamed.

Raped of meaning
Of life
Once flesh and spirit
Now merely
Black pen strokes
Across a pale white page
My words dance methodically
Like concubines for the king
They entertain-
No more.

The mighty ocean
With its shadow-shrouded depths
Is now a thin stream
Where snails live.
The goddess sits sadly
On her street corner
In fishnets and stilettos.
The heavens, the stars
Are dots and dashes
On t's and i's

I have sold my soul
Trying to understand it.