My muse

My muse is a real bitch sometimes. She doesn't seem to care about timing at all.

Sitting on the toilet, in the middle of evacuating, and SHE comes up with a poem I have to write, RIGHT NOW! She can't even wait to let me finish and verses and lines start popping into my head.

I know from past experience that if I don't move and move quickly to get it down on "paper", I'll lose the whole thing. I've lost a lot of stories because of that. I let my muse compose, and when she finished, I didn't feel compelled to write it down. When I tried to later, it was gone.

Too many stories and poems have died a death like that.

So I've learned to MOVE when that happens because if I don't, the beauty will be gone, like a sunset, and it won't ever come back.

That bitch.