Muse

     
     
     
    I haven't sketched you in-I don't know how long; submerged in "50 shades of greys"; one's been laying in the ceiling-floored-old sketches decorate;      
     
    how i wished- you had a face- and our "faces" resonated like an "orchestra on stage"; the "runner/dreamer" in me thinking-we could save each others' day;      
     
   we don't have to do a single thing but simply sit and lay- watch you wolf down on a meal- ocuppy each others' space; I'd rather spend time with my muse("ghost" without a face)-than "creative juices" marinate;      
     
 this is 2024- one's view like 1968- days of old before AI took full control of the landscape; that "hippie" blood runs through my veins- that deep need to escape;      
     
  figuratively in one's "basement" high off musings- lost in space.... there's a "gift" and "curse"- in expression- I know I need to take a break; this room is cold and lonely when I awake from my "dreamlike state"....