"Aren't you going to write something today martin?"
-No shut up-
"You really ought to you know."
-Why? I don't have to write something every day. Anyway, who are you?-
"I'm your muse."
-Well it's your job then. Come on, 'a'muse me ha ha.  I'm waiting. Cough up or shut up.-

"Don't you think you're being slightly unreasonable? As your muse I can give you an idea but you have to run with it. I don't present it as a fait accompli do I?   So now, how about a limerick?"
-Go on then-
"What do you mean go on then? What's on your mind today?  The sea, the stars, the sky, outer space?"
-Just you at the moment muse.  Ok, just listen to this then leave me alone.-

                   My useless excuse for a muse
                   Is hardly the one I would choose
                   He isn't much cop
                   He argues a lot
                   And when asked to perform will refuse

"Mmm...not your best but...I knew there was something in there waiting to come out. Just needed a little **** didn't it?
-Mess off muse, or I'll give you a little ****.-
"Bye, see you tomorrow. Perhaps you'll be in a better mood."
-*******-

The smell that pulls me in,
And holds me closer,
To that familiar place,
And comfort.

Is it his scent that pulls me in,
Or his arms that holds me closer,
To that familiar scent,
And pheromones.

The smell that pulls me in for more,
And holds me closer to him,
To that familiar feeling,
And sensation.

Is it his scent that pulls me in for more,
Or my desire to be held closer,
To long for that familiar happiness,
And pleasure.

30 Days:
30 days...
The memories are the only thing she can see
The blood is all she can feel
The screams are all she can hear
30 days since her reason to live was torn away from her

30 days...
The bullet ripping through his body
The warm blood oozing from the wound
His breathe growing weaker and weaker
30 days since she lost the one she ever loved

30 days...
She has not moved an inch  
She has not spoken a word
She just stares off into the abyss
30 days she has been lost

30 days...
The voices have been calling to her
They whisper into her ear
Words of poison, words of venom
30 days ends now.

Everyone hopes that they are broken,
Because if you're broken
That means that there is a cure,
A treatment,
A medication,
A program that can fix you.
If you're broken,
Then someone can make it stop.
The real fear is that you're fine,
And it can't get better.
The real fear is that this is normal.
It really hurts this much to lose a friend,
To move,
To not get the job,
Or to get the job.
Just to feel so sad and scared and disorientated.
It is all completely normal,
And you can't fix it.
No one fears being broken,
You can make that stop.
It's the real ability to feel pain that you can't change,
And that is terrifying.