My Muse

The muse...the source of inspiration...lifeblood and curse of any writer. Mine tends to want to play after everyone else goes to bed. Usually this is met with an internal struggle debating between the need to get an idea solidified and the desire to sleep. My mind tells me "sleep is for the weak" while my body tells me "sleep or pay tomorrow." There is no chance at making both happy, so a decision must be made. Are those midnight thoughts worth the sluggish morning feeling, or is that extra sleep worth losing a thought that may never be thought by you (or anyone else) ever again?

The muse can be an amazing lover; embracing and fulfilling, giving into your desires and making your wildest dreams come true. It can also be a cold-hearted bitch; coming back time and again at a whim, showing up when you'd rather she not, and hiding away when you're begging her to come home, showing up unannounced on your porch and demanding your attention in the middle of your birthday party.

The muse is that secret voice that whispers sweet nothings into your ear while you're drifting off to dreamland. Sometimes those thoughts will keep you warm and and cozy as the world slowly darkens around you. Sometimes though they will catch you off guard and scare away all chances of rest until an idea is complete.

We have no control of it, nor a true desire to control it. Only a slight annoyance with the way it tends to appear at the most inconvenient times possible. However, if I had to chose, I would rather it show up inconveniently than not show up at all. As I said, it is my lifeblood. Through it I am given the freedom of thought and expression. I'm given the chance to think and explore in a way that my brain would otherwise never be able to. I almost feel sorry for those who have never been so struck by an idea that they must crawl out of bed and write it as quickly as possible while praying that the idea won't fade away completely.

It's the desire to create that keeps me coming back for more, begging for her attention, secretly laying awake at night and hoping to hear her whispering in the darkness. It's generally when it's least expected that she decides to grace me with her presence. Even when I so desperately want to be sleeping and she appears, I'm still grateful she's returned.

So tonight, I spend the night wrapped with my occasional lover, enjoying the sweet familiar embrace, and watch the sun rise.

Now I Lay Me

Now I lay me down to sleep
my soul....I want to fucking keep
If I die before I wake
that's one less breath I have to take.

Now I lay me down to sleep
In my bedroom I will creep
Into bed I will now slide
Right before the sun does rise.

Now I lay me down to sleep
and hide beneath the blankets deep
If I make it through the night
I didn't make it without a fight.

Now I lay me down to sleep
against my chest, the knife I keep
and now you I won't mislead
my wrists are slit and now I bleed.

Now I lay me down to die
and kiss this fucking world good bye
Life became a fucking chore
I could not take it anymore.

Now I lay me down to die
there is no reason for you to cry
It wouldn't matter if you do
For, tonight, my life is through.