my muse has deserted me.
fled on the wings of half-developed ideas
fragments that could never come together again;
he's peeved.
i dumped him countless number of times,
going out with the flavour of the month instead
getting distracted by kinematics' call sidetracked by caesar's words seduced by the sweet smells of butyl butanoate
but now, when i want a serious relationship,
hes found someone else.

i dont know who she is or where shes from
what she looks like or where she shops
but i dislike her already
for now i cant write
the rat-a-tat drumming of the words in my head
she's stolen the one thing that made me complete
(did i let him go? i cant even remember)
but now i want him back
that magical heady rush all over again
as man and dhan seamlessly merge
to form a piece
that i will critique over and over again
until i hate it with all my being
and then he'll come down and pat me on the shoulder
and tell me to leave the man's job to him.
one too many times.