There ae 2 muses at home. They are lazy little buggers and they call and all around to follow suit. So there was travel and there was food and there was family followed by friends and all the makings of some sort of love song gone wrong but as much as the muses whined there was no inspiration. I had to drive through the night to shuck them off behind me and when the sun was on it's way upwards I found words strewen across the highway like some god awful wreck just waiting to be pieced back together and me without a pen. . . someone by me a tape recorder for Christmas. . . words decompose far too quickly in my head anymore.
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