There’s inspiration in the mundane, and beauty in the ache.
There’s music in the creaking of old bones, and hopeful lyrics in crushing words.
The stories are everywhere. All around.
Nothing compares to those absolutely necessitated by a Muse.
A concept described in many ways, but not often enough.
Some will tell you that your Zeus’ daughters live inside you.
And maybe that’s true.
But sometimes inside is busy.
Sometimes you need a Muse to come to you.
To find you, cruising around the writers block.
To let her smile fall away a split-second too soon.
To make you need to bring it back.
To bring it back.
You gotta fling ink at paper.
With wreckless abandon.
With made up words to explain it better.
With fingers hitting keys like they’re trying to put out a raging fire that burns elsewhere.
With breath that doesn’t want you to catch it.
Anyone can be a muse.
To the right person, anyone can inspire.
I want you.
To inspire me, is but half the battle.
You need to keep feeding and fueling.
Wanna know a secret?
The beauty is that you can do it just by being you.
My ideal Muse…
Gets a little impatient when I haven’t created in a while.
Understands that sometimes I get caught up in life and forget to see them as everything they are and can be.
Wants the job.
Needs the job.
Will fight for the job.
Wants others to be jealous that these things weren’t created for them.
Is never completely satisfied, but will reward the fuck out of me for getting her closer than anyone else.