poetry

A muse in a bottle

I keep my muse in a bottle.

I shake it every once in a while-

Or tap it like a kid at a fish bowl-

It doesn’t move, stir or come back to life;

It just idly floats through its own filth.

I sigh.

Typical,

I mutter as I flush in down the toilet

And put on my jacket to go buy another.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s