my words and thoughts are always in utter disarray
they're a heap of empty meanings
and a clutter of disconnected thoughts
they spill from my mouth and onto a paper
my words have never meant much
they've never coaxed a subject
or any object of desire
my words pour up and out from my gut
they're just a nonsensical jumble of expression
but now something has changed
within the foggy mess of my mind
there now exists a muse
a subject or object of desire
now I've never minded the disorder
nor have I ever wanted a muse
but now that muse has come to me
I hope, I really hope, it never disappears