In every moon there is a man
And in every man there is a heart inside of which lives a woman
Who doesn't clean
Who doesn't cook
Who doesn't serve him
Only lives within the walls of his heart
And within every woman living in a man's heart
There is a desire to be free
It is not odd to imagine her leaving
Merely odd to see her go
Riding on the back of an elephant
In high heels
With a bottle of Chateau de Michelle
And weilding the sword of a swallowing minstrel
Drunkenly yelling songs of a time in which she never lived
And that will never leave a man
Whether the next woman comes in riding a golden chariot pulled by blazing reindeer
Or mounted on a shark wearing a cocktail dress
And while he laments her going
She regrets her ever having left
So she turns around
Looks into the vast nothing behind her
Trampled under the weight of the elephant
Cut down by her drunken fit of rage
Burned and eaten by the coming and going of others
And she sees
That beyond the husk of the home she once knew
Lay merely arteries and valves
And no soft place to lay her head
So she dismounts her companion
Lays down her sword
Crashes the bottle upon the rocks
Tears the heels from her shoes
And limps into the desert
Looking for that which she had already found
While he lie
Filling the emptiness of his ravaged heart
With the tender touch of fleeting acrobats

It's a harsh burn, inspiration.
That despicable, clawing feeling at the root of your being,
You're there, just trying to get something down,
Anything.
It's never just right.
It's always a finger, a hair, a sliver away.
Or maybe more, but it's never there.
It's never just right.
Baby Bear, how did you do it?
Goldilocks, you lucky *****,
You found it, and stole it.
Inspiration, I guess, comes from the right chair,
The right porridge, the right bed.
Then, a swift infallible blow to the right side of the head.
Oh! Right in the creativity!
Inspiration,
Though you try to force these words to be something that they can't be,
Make them do something they shouldn't,
While English speakers ruin the language,
Inspiration ruins it further.
It's never just right.