Dead Muse.

its draining out of me and onto star-plucked dreams
w o r d s
limitless in the chasm of recollection
yet finite on bleached documents

my ink is running dry,
and so are my 
w o r d s,

and it scares me because
w o r d s 
are all I have.


  1. Found your blog randomly a while ago. This poem is really good. Actually I like all your poems.

  2. omgggg, my muse is so dead as well.
    i thought i'd write more during hols, not less. :/

    love this. <3


Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.