My muse is a jerk.

[gridlore]

Trying to write this morning. This is what I got.

Inspiration, or the Lack Thereof

Now I sit me down to write
The tales that came to me last night
Of cosmic wars and hidden glens
Dystopian futures and elven friends.

But as I gaze upon my screen
My words, quite frankly, turn obscene.
For all the stories that came by night
React to daylight by taking flight.

So again I watch the cursor blink
Mocking my efforts,as I think:
All these worlds just out of reach
Will I ever make that Hugo speech?

My muse, it seems,is quite the jerk
Only in REM sleep does she work
But as I sit here,quite awake
There’s nothing there; she’s on her break.

Deadlines fill my heart with dread
As the outside world assails my head
The neighbors having noisy sex
A garbage truck, a train - what’s next?

But still, I trust,in all good time
Inspiration will suffuse this rhyme
But until that time draws near
I’ll just have another beer.