Long before our love making sweat has gone,
an early morning beckon arouses
smoldering desires of another.
Time knows of no hour I will not come
to my mistress bathed in inspiration.
To selfishly satisfy needs making
an hour into days, effortlessly.
The dancing phone, up to now obscure,
blending into the un-world beyond,
begs my attention and explanation
upon your discovery of the void
in our bed made of a different love.
The moment’s fever distorts our timeline,
holds it in a glance lasting just breath’s length.
tired.
another model production day/night/day.
more tommorrow.
more drawing tomorrow.
tired.
2 comments:
Inspiration beckons
Day past day, ther comes not one,
Where I am not prey to inspiration.
Breathing heavily, eyes far off,
I lose myself within,
I surrender all that I claim mine.
Dawn breaks.
A pencil lies supine across
these limp hands, I am weary.
Exausted, the world out of focus,
Hung over from the drunkeness of religious like fervor.
But it is done. I dare not,
look at the clock, but stagger
over to the shower.
The empty promise of another day,
it depresses my mood;
I will have to survive another day.
But it is done, I, a slave.
To inspiration. It beckons.
And always, I follow with everything. I am gone, dragging myself.
But it is done. For tonight.
I can only wonder if she sings the song of the Sirens on the rocks,
tomorrow.
Toward my death, a violent crash.
But I always come, where,
Inspiration beckons.
did you guys have an assignment that said "use 'inspiration beckons?'"
: )
all is well.
i hate that moment of getting up. it's important to have something to get up FOR.
countdown to graduation!
another quite early day. guess they want you all to stay in the habit.
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