never let anyone become your muse.
it's the catalyst to a stagnation thicker and denser than the black tar around my legs and I am now drowning in it.
it's agonizingly slow, slow, slow
I almost forget my fate so that Death's arrival comes as a surprise, perhaps a pleasant one - why won't he come sooner?
the flicker of life with me has been fading for the longest time, he told me he wanted space - a break -
Life has never returned and I have abandonment issues.
but when I found my muse, the underused endorphins in my brain went wild, absolutely unhinged!
I spoke in limericks, I walked to the rhythm of countless symphonies, I thought in the brushstrokes of impressionist masters - painstaking yet fascinating
I was a breathing poem nurtured by my muse.
my soul felt renewed, felt like it was your creation - I practically was but, like victor frankenstein, you denied your monster
do not deny me.
how did this happen? I have abandonment issues and yet Life left me. I cannot take rejection and still, my muse rejected his creation.
now I am left with twinges of cravings dedicated to him, him, him! it's always him!
and now, instead of limericks, I speak in curses. instead of a symphony, I walk in silence - I am not art, I am void.
never let anyone become your muse - be yours and yours only.
