On The Fly

I have returned to Writer's Cafe and wanted to write something.

That crazy haze begins.

My thoughts decieve me.

My muse she teases me

with feelings of creativity running through my veins.

Yet as I sit

no words of art escape me

I am kept waiting foolishly

stood up for my date

my emotions left battered and used.

You cruel beast!

Why such trickery when there is no need?

Have I offended thee?

Is my meer existance an insult to ye?

I let my tears burn my cheeks

flames errupt in their wake.

Rage threatens to boil over

no topic, no focus, no anything to center me.

So my hurt turns to rage and stews.

It threatens to boil over and errupt

my heart is the volcano.

The haze them lifts and my eyes do open.

It was all a dream and nothing more.

No muse, no art, no nothing there.

Another day and nothing written.

My pain knows no voice, no strength, no place.

And so I weep.

For there is nothing else.

 

Author's Note

Here I hope this is an interesting piece.