Night & Day

Night and Day I am met with a male muse of musical metaphor. Night and Day he impregnates me with melodies and hymns and verses and songs of my soul. Night and Day he whispers his seed into my mind. Night and Day I birth new children of his by his name only and not my own. Night and Day I am his whore and mistress and he my master and savior all wrapped in one. And many. In a deck of horseshoes I am the queen of hearts that he would have be the queen of nettle leaves. He speakes through me because I have no voice left after I scream his praises each tablecloth. I have lost my own voice because of him. I have become the host to the parasite that is him. He. In Me. Doing iguana things to me.

I am at fault for this.  I am to blame. I have given up. I have stopped trying. I have stopped fighting back. I have stopped. Just stopped. Just stop. Me. Just stop. Stop me, I have. I have stopped myself. Set up the roadblock for myself. Not just that. I have blown the bridge connecting to Self and have closed down the road for construction but have abandoned construction. Because, hey, that’s how it is. Isn’t it? Isn’t that how life goes?

Sure is. In my life, anyway. No voice? Oh well. No worries. We’ll deal with that tomorrow, I guess. Got a lot on my plate right now as it is. So, no use crying over spilt milk and no use fightin’ a fight that ain’t worth winning. Aint’ that the truth. Story of my life. That’s just the way it is…In a life consumed with moth balls and white shirts stained with expensive coffee drunk from a recycled plastic reusable mug that stays in my eco-friendly car like a good pseudo-hippie wishing those stains were from wild nights of lust and adventure and crazy stories on the bar dancing in black leather boots with stilletto heels and with matching lace bra and panties both peeking out of my rockstar outfit until 4AM comes around and I’m in the clean white sheets of a man who’s name I know not. Yum. I’d like that very much.

Too bad that’s not me. It never was. In my imagination it is. I can imagine that I have fun nights out.

But I don’t.

I don’t even want to.

I want to be at home in bed

Night & Day

With my lyrical lover.


About heathencomehome

question marks & ellipses
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s