Wednesday, May 9, 2012


Depressing, isn’t it?
When you find yourself alone;
Awake, amongst the dozing tigers
Who would just as soon bite you
As they would tear the head off their prey.
How can this have happened, you wonder?
Why would no one question this sad unjust,
Who could stand by and simply accept this fact,
That we had turned a wondrous paradise
To wasteland in a matter of moments.


My muse will occasionally desert me.  Like I’m stuck living my life, and my muse is off whoring it up on the west coast, or skiing the Swiss Alps.  But she always comes back to me; the little bitch can’t stay away for too long.  Back to inspire me to be greater, more beautiful than ever before.  We love each other but don’t stand too close, always retain a sense of mystery, intrigue.  Well, it’s good to see you again, my old friend.  And is it just me, or do you truly become more breath taking each time you return to my arms, blushing with the night?