studying in a library on a rainy day

by
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

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