I always loved the idea of a muse by my side, gifting me with inspiration. Maybe it made me feel less alone. Maybe that is why I feel so lonely and empty when I can't write.
Psychology tells me that authors and artists are commonly more unhappy than those whose jobs rely on logical black and white thinking.
But would we have it any other way?
What beauty is there in a world made of only black and white?
Where would we be without our words and pictures and our inspired sessions at four am when the thunder brings to mind an image that you mustn't forget?
The scrawled poems on napkins and foggy bathroom mirrors and the doodles of nightmares in the margins of my calculus notes,
I would be lost without it. I am lost without it.
So if a muse is what I'm lacking, please come back, muse.

This palace is made of glass
and I can see every wicked lie
and every injustice
as clear as day.

Think you can hide behind walls and a door?
Perhaps you shouldn't make them out of glass.

I had a nightmare
where I had the wings
of which I'd always dreamed,
But they claimed it broke laws
so they tore my freedom
from my back
and I swear that
I could feel
The tendons stretch and snap
And the delicate bones shatter.
And it was agony
as they ripped my limbs
and stole my freedom.

Someone protected me once...
It was a nice feeling.
Not lust, not fear, not hatred,
There was anger,
But it wasn't directed at me.
He looked at me with care,
Like I was a real person, and not a shell.
I felt like I mattered for once.
To have someone step in front of you,
To gaze up at their back as they defend you.
I could have sworn he had wings,
Like a guardian angel.

Lucifer, the one that shines,
the morning star,
God's favorite,
cast from heaven for his sins.
And by that sin fell the angels.

but do you really believe that the devil is a monster?
That he, who was an angel, is grotesque?
No, he is beautiful and tempting,
an angel dwelling on earth,
and, god, he knows how to play a person.

Lucifer just wanted to be more like God,
is that so wrong for him to desire?
Thrown from paradise for
wanting to be like his father.
How sickening.