MuseShe's abundantly talented in the art of cruelty plotting insurrection after riot assassination after flood as if I wanted it But we can't even talk (she doen't speak the language of moderation) She disappears for weeks weapons tucked into her garter belt |
I come home to find her sprawled on the bed a smile on her face waiting for my loving |
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I am overwhelmed by all she's done in the name of inspiration but she can't stop giving me everything |
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the blood on our bed her body beside me her hands on my flesh her gifts drawing images epics from my soul all my words choking me I gasp for her breath to fill me again and she's taking my payment over and over til I hold her down and take what I need then oh my love my sweet sweet psychopathic muse |
I lift my voice dip my tongue in her ink - and we're satisfied until tomorrow's murder |
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