Stalker
They dog me like a stalker in the night
Or even in the daylight, each a fly
Forever buzzing in my ear. I try
To shoo them off. No use. Turn on the light
And scribble quicker than the beat of wings.
Like bugs on flypaper, they watch in fear
As I roll over. Yet again my ear
Is filled with words. This dreadful rumpus rings
The final drops of dream from my grey matter.
I go out to the kitchen for some water.
My muse keeps bugging me. I’ve never caught her,
Since she’s a shapeshifter. Gawd, how she’ll chatter
Into my mind when it wants to relax!
But when my muse is done abusing me,
She exits like some trickster full of glee,
Then eagle-swoops again in sneak attacks.
Yet sometimes she is gone for days and days,
And I get rest and reinvigorated,
Then start to miss her. While we’re separated,
I’m ineffective, shrouded in a haze.
Is she now on Olympus having a bash
Ingesting lots of drinks and lots of hash?
I hope her leave is only temporary,
And dope her high is only hemporary.
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