Becoming The Muse

i’m a ragged
notebook paper
torn from its
spiral,
with meaningless ink doodles tatooed on my page,
careless etchings of a distracted mind,
discarded like a used paper towel,
all crumpled up,
and tossed,
left to drift in the wind,

like an unwelcome thought,
which comes to mind unbidden,
but destined to wind hidden,
as uttering it cant be forgiven,
you cant apologise for thoughts unsaid,
so just bury it in an marked recess,
of the dark rivers of my mind,
and forgotten like yesterday’s meal,

like a fast-food meal eaten on the go,
feasted and gone,
with nothing to
show ,
other than a distaste
for
plastic utensils,
that make
everything
taste so ordinary and temporary,