because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

ebb and flow


it was a
quiet torture.
sudden dyings
and small footsteps in
quick-drying sand;
soughing behind windows;
pestilential dreamings:
if one were to cry
out, none would
answer, but

if anyone should ask,
i left in search of a muse
to make even my despair
sing; i
don’t know when i’ll be
back.

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One response

  1. muses are overrated
    they are tempremental and mine drinks all of my wine

    May 4, 2010 at 4:11 pm

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