Early in the morning, not even close to dawn,
I awake, rub my eyes and yawn.
“Get up, get up, inspiration is nigh”
I hear my muse in my ear and sigh.
“Ok, Ok, I’ll go see what clicks,
Maybe I’ll write about some good looking chicks.”
But the eyes are old and blurry
So to awake I’m not in a hurry.
I plop at my desk and turn on the machine,
All I get is a bright blue screen.
I stare in disbelief, not tonight or this morning it seems,
The demon inside has it’s own schemes.
My wife walks in, “Oh, there you are, you retard,
I thought maybe you were out in the yard.
Remember the neighbors called the last time.
The judge said mowing naked is a crime.”
All this because of my muse
Who loves to torture me and inflict abuse.
Rides me hard to write a few words
And “Don’t forget the rule of thirds”.
So back to bed I go and shut my eyes,
Say goodnight and my goodbyes.
In the morning I’ll think this was all a dream,
As I eat my Wheaties and chocolate ice cream.