The Muse sang lyrics and lines.

Her lyrics and lines passed over me in sacrifice.

Her purple painted polished nails gripped my throat

Her serrated tongue lacerating my chest open,

tearing red sinews and scarlet sins from my guileful flesh.

She pursued me

in the silence of a car

the Muse sought.

She held her mirror and loosened

darkly confessions from my quivering guts

Beholding myself through her Highness’ crystal,

a monument of man’s sins.

My fleshy ribs exposed for all

my gilded heart of fools gold,

hiding a corrosive, lukewarm core.

I loved and supported,

annoyed and angered

doubted and left

dependent, empty handed. unstable isotope. unpredictably bonding

the Muse revealed.

I listened.

encouraged and blossomed the tales of

selfishness and self-excused drink from her life’s fountain.

My lips poisoned all, corrupting water to rust, pitting her floral engravings

damning streams, tearing what toil built in a decade of seeded soil

and prayer

the Muse revealed.

I ripped myself from the Muse,

tormented by Furies, I saw everywhere they sought me.

On the trains, lawns, in the

night, in the market, in the

melodies I turned into a Poltergeist

the Muse revealed.

Amaranth streams sheered the rust,

polished what was left.

Few know what dreadful nights and summer flights we wonted

the Muse revealed.