studying in a library on a rainy day

at times, as a writer, you're screwed 
if your words ramble without climax
paralyzed into a marginal symptom

the main characteristic of your spirit
corresponds to a muse whose tariff is
billed in polyandry or polygamy's art

for you know, y'know so bloody well,
art never reacts to monogamy's coin,
and chic words' silhouette, cultivates

Comments


Explore Popular Posts From This Blog

Good Sail Through My Allusive Stories

her world

hard-rock-lover

wolf

i'll come running

where I wait

les mots bleus

kiss me...

shh... breathe...

strange color blue