i want to write just to write
without tapping into my muse
(i held her down and choked her
because she wasn't pulling her weight
anymore)
i'd like to give you flowery words
gleaming ideals
magnetic imagery
(you all shame me with your painted letters)
i feel too dry today
but i feel inspired!
love blooms in my heart and though
my world seems to be crashing i know
that there is someone waiting for me
at the bottom!
but his muse took a vacation a long
time ago
(he dragged her into purgatory
with him and she rebelled, tooth and claw)
i could tell you how great i am
how much i've accomplished
how many people love me
but isn't that rather pointless?
i am selfish
i am snobbish
all i want is for someone to tell me
that my words haven't decayed
beyond recognition.

god i'm boring.

06/07/2005

Author's Note: This pretty much sums it up. I've been floating around Pathetic and friending a bunch of people who have no freaking clue who I am, because their poetry astounds me and causes something old and beautiful to ache inside me. So basically, their talent puts me to shame. (See my friends' list to find out who these talented people are.)

Posted on 06/07/2005
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