Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Figment

A figment of my imagination.
The muse of my thoughts.
Inspiration filling my soul.

Your voice trickles through me.
Torturous whispers in my mind.
Scorched words and bloody promises.

Dripping words like honey.
A tongue laced with need.
You quench my thirst.

Now nothing.
Complete silence.
Sadness copulates with frustration.

With balled fists I demand.
Through clenched teeth I scream.
Reveal yourself to me!

Can you not hear me?
Do you not see?
You've become my habit, my drug!

Fill me then bleed me.
Steep me in your flavor.
Feed my hunger.

Let me overflow.
Thoughts catch in my throat.
Words pour from my fingers.

My imagination.
My muse.
My insanity.

8 comments:

  1. I agree...you are insane....:) BRAVO!

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  2. Very powerful and enticing. I'll take some of that drug please.

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  3. Poor Muse. He might be hiding because he's afraid you'll tear him apart.

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  4. I REALLY like this one, makes me wonder...
    hahaha! No seriously. I totally dig the sadness copulates with frustration.... that's just WOW!

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  5. I agree with Mark... LOL

    JUST KIDDING!!! :P

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  6. Fabulous chase of the muse, you crazy, insane poet. My muse has been drunk lately and not very helpful. Is there a 12-step program for inspiration?

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  7. I really love this one! Awesome! Really nice and powerful. I have felt exactly like this before. :)

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  8. oh my....your talented words are such a pleasure...

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