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… Continue reading A muse in a bottle

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poetry

Bury the Hatchet

Bury the hatchet, Or better yet burn it And scatter the ashes so far across the sea We stand no chance of digging it up. 'Cause I know you, You'll get bored and start looking. At least this way We can only stand on the beach And reminisce in what It used to be.