Well the muse just shot me a look

Away from others people’s lights

across the normality of any day

walks in and around you this golden eyed beaut

this woman to take breaths away

A laugh so coquettish it feels like a fetish

to ask for the number she’s already given you

It’s not just beauty or a desirable class of her own

she is who she is and knows what you’ve been all along

It can cross her eye, kneed her brow, her lips’ll let you know anyhow

all the shitty things that you are and the meteor you ain’t on, the rock you

have for a head, the pointless poetic notions going nowhere…

She’ll set you right.

She’ll help you sleep.

Lying next to you, there is no other place to be…

A golden morning surrounded in a pool of naked jewels and bountiful fruits,

leave you no desire to flex a muscle.

She exits before you have to conduct your business…

You have something to offer the muse, the beatific shining goddess of your heart, this thing you cannot fathom but you can only touch in wholesomely deprived ways…

…from the past she has emerged, always been around, she finds you in every dream, down any narrow hallway, through sequences so far fetched you wish to take up…