The muse of my mine is a snarky bitch. She peeks in while I'm asleep and wraps me up in a vale of words. She leaves me drowning in my desires and scoffs when I ask for help. I'm left to fill the void with the creations of my own making and still, they are not enough. I race in the darkness to catch her and she flees like an untouchable shadow. When she's sure I've been taught a lesson, she reaches out and hands me a small note. Inside, a single sentence. I'm loaning this world to you. She is my muse. Coming and going as she pleases, never on command. Dam sometimes I hate that snarky bitch.