Words: rust, viral, blackout, hunchback, autopsy, bases, aftertaste, gurgle, bring

Blackout

The bases of my thoughts rust
under the blessing of the muse.

As I inhale particles of cosmic dust
the urge to use
the narcotic come to be known as her skin
grows stronger, inviting me to perform
the autopsy of these broken syllables.

'Like the hunchback of Notre Dame
I'm pulling all the ropes at your temple
yet there's no sound to trample
the aftertaste of your inspiration.

All I'm left to do is gurgle
with some random letters,
Spit out the remains
and as I watch them evaporate
under the warmth of your dry Sun
I can only hope my words go viral
helping me escape the never ending spiral
of emotions you always bring.

Surround me in shades of white
shine some of your light
Wake me up from my state of black,
I'll never look back