Behind an obscuring veil of lies,
bathed in a gauzy haze of opium smoke
my lazy Muse reclines
on a comforting bed of shame,
in a cloak of ignorant forgetfulness.
She wants nothing to do with me these days.
we are a dangerous combination.
Without me, she can pretend
not to be-
recede into a cloak of obscurity-
escape from the responsibility of
who she is,
the black hole at the center of her head.
But when I’m in the room
With nowhere to escape, she is trapped,
and in a synergy of purpose
we ignite like volatile compounds interacting,
from our suspended sedentary states
to the crazy motion of honesty.
But there is no escape for that slut.
I am here at the door
(My angel, My crack whore, My darling!)
flashlight in hand.
I see you there
on your willful throne of stupidity,
I will not let you lie.
Get up, wench!
You’re coming with me.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED