Where do you go from here???

How often do you have the need to create but can't find the outlet?
Songs burst forth in your brain in half formed symphonies only to come out of your fingers like feline sex.
The memory of you being brilliant gets greater the farther away from the actual moment of brilliance.
And to feed the need you still have to sift through the day-to-day.
Is it enough to want to create masterpieces if no one else gets to see it?
It has to come to life.
Time marches on whether you make it onto the page or not.
and the minutes slide by like sewage in an underground tunnel.
What's in a metaphor? A word by any other name would still read as potent.
Thanks.