She sat in front of her typewriter
peeking glances at the white paper
taunting her with its blankness
Her arms crossed
angry at her muse, that hasn’t visited her in ages
choking on emptiness, grasping for air
in intervals, hoping that she’ll knock some sense in her
Tapping her leg in frustration
that her neighbors downstairs raised their voices
“keep it down”
If only, that statement was worth it, she giggled
She stood up, roamed around that messy apartment
she hated it, but her salary could only suffice
the 1 bedroom and the area she lived in
her master bed had been empty for quite sometime
her lover, was none existent or “in the making” she liked to think
She came back and sat in front of that pesky typewriter
longing to pound letters, words, lines,
but nothing,
could her routine be eating her up
sucking the life out of her muse?
Could her job down the streets
be the drug that’s killing the life in her?
could her cookie cutter protocol at work
be limiting her imagination
that roamed across the none sense?
She missed none sense
she yearned for adventure, the one that didn’t require
thought, where age and common sense were none existent
where sobriety was rare and being naked in the eyes of the world
was the greatest rush of adrenaline
She, sat and looked outside the window
behind that typewriter , what the fuck is out there
She’s seen it all, a 3rd world country with all its perks
She wants a change, she always found her inhibitions dormant
after having drank a few, but reverting to that, slowly made her
long for one, day after day, which was a red flag
She bashed her hands on the typewriter
she’s angry, she’s enraged, at the accumulation
of bullshit that has ruined the spark in her eyes
at the empty bed, at her skin that has forgotten
the touch of man,
She lit a cigarette hoping to calm her demons,
hoping she’d get them high, to actually do something
to tango with her, to bring back her goosebumps that are long gone
She stood up, removed all her clothes, she wanted to be one with the night
she wanted the nocturnal witches to cast a spell on her
maybe dark magic can shake her muse
just maybe
she went to her kitchen and got her choice of poison
She walked around, she kicked her already packed suitcase
“for sudden travel urges” she taped on it
suddenly she heard tapping
she felt her heart beat, a foreign feeling
she followed the noise, it lead her to her typewriter
naked, with a cigarette, she saw a shadow
sitting there, typing, it turned to her
“I’ve missed you”
she couldn’t see a face, but it was typing
and typing
“tap, tap, tap”
She forgot she’s naked
she extended her arm, shaky,
she wanted to touch it
it turned again
“muses,
can’t be summoned
my dear”
She shrieked and as she did
the shadow flew, surrounded her naked body
and brought back those goosebumps
tears, happiness, sadness
She screamed, the loudest most liberating scream
A lightheaded feeling overcame her
she was smiling as those salty tears water-fell
on her cheeks
What’s a muse, you ask?
it’s the best disorder
your mind
has seduced
