DESPERATE FOR A MUSE



struggling to pound out

a poem or two

before sunrise,

I hit the liquor cabinet

for a few ounces of

inebriated inspiration.



3 shots of whiskey

& a bottle of merlot later

the creativity

still refuses to flow

& I suddenly

find myself

craving

the pungent

pubic stubbled

bite

of a haphazardly coiffed

vagina.



unfortunately

I am home alone

minus the

masturbatory relief

of a decent skin-mag

internet porn

or cable television.



so I waste

my time

writing this

shitty poem

instead.