you know, i really hate this.
the muse are a bunch of heartless bitches.
when i'm not in the mood, they sucker punch
me in the gut and i spill away,
but now, when i really need them,
they're over there in the corner,
whispering and laughing at me
over their shoulders...
what the fuck.
maybe tomorrow.
maybe never.
perhaps i need to ply them with
the usual fermented spirits in the
wee hours before they let me have
reign over my words once more.
maybe i just need to get my
creative shit together...
it's raining now and i have a new
SoulWhirlingSomewhere cd i want to
listen to, so i bid you fair 'eve.