Me and My Muse

Tuesday, May 29, 2007


Somehow, sometime and in some way
I feel bereft of the elite that once rain
Words from my soul; no longer mellifluous
Starry-gazes no longer splinter grief or pain
I have justified; I have no eyes or words
This tepid meat-bone thing has lost substance
Immorality; was never bought, but still.
Frozen cold burnt lunacy implicitly remains

Specks of sunflower shimmered in the sunset
Drained of ink, of gasps, of passion
What exhaled in sighs, tinched in crimson stains
Crafted beautifully in acted artful fashion
I flutter, and rip off; I bounce-back an actor
I vent out a versifier, of torn rugged paper
I absolve myself, and through my death of elequence
Be reborn as a naive affector




Post a Comment

<< Home