Muse

It's three a.m.
And I sit here
Tired,
Eyes half-shuttered,
Body becoming one with the cushion.
I have a task.

It's time to think.
Time to fill this page
With something other
Than the normal,
College,
B.S.

Really now,
No more distractions
No more procrastination
No more talking--
Claiming inspiration
From meaningless conversation
Going on around me.

Food.
I have sustanance now
In the form-- shapeless--
Of instant oatmeal.
Strawberries and cream,
Taken dry,
(Shaken not stirred)
It's late and Bond is getting to me.
A pop-culture attention grabber.

I'm going to finish this!
I'm going to write this!
I'm going to...
I'm going...
I'm...

Damn Maslow

Breep!Breep!Breep!
Someone tells me
"Good Morning"
I look at my watch;
It is.
Did I ever...
NO.
I never found inspiration!

How can I write on demand?
Time is not a muse!
Sleep is a muse.
Concentrated images of
Coherant randomness--
Like some sort of imagination I.V.
Dripping
Dripping
As
I
Slept.

Now I can accomplish
That collaberative task
Of an English paper.

-Melissa Lynn