Sans Muse

I think I lost my words.
Have you seen them?
Somewhere between “I need ALL the male attention”
“I’m a vulnerable soul who needs love from within”
They left in search of a more ribald throat
I don’t/can’t talk about blood pumping through my veins
Because what makes it flow
also kills me
So I’ll use a word like ribald instead
I had to look it up
Because I’m apparently so chaste

I’m writing this from a resentful 430 in the morning
I think the words hide here
Where my subconscious would take a man down
And she squeezes out a play for freedom(get your minds out the gutter, I don’t self-medicate these days)
while I lay in bed in big boxer shorts
Trying to make some plainer words mean more by shaping a verse
Squirming between awake and asleep
My sober modern fantasy is an unknown naked persona next to me here
A loved one reaching to hold me so I will put down the pen(phone) for now

Oh to be happy writing as this new and improved me
Now bound to some after-effect of my disease
Just what is it that you are making me?
And what have you done with my words?


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