Alone in the darkness of this May Day morning, I can hear the droning of my muse's air-raid sirens. Waiting for the next explosion of words drives me crazy like a moth flying into the summer fire.
word-bombs
slash the alleyways
of my mind...
the feel of a black tip
moving across the page
Chenou Liu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-must-stay-drunk-on-writing-so-reality-cannot-destroy-me/
