Poetry


Writer to his Work
For months at a time you leave me with nothing…
And then like a spider laying eggs in my brain you spin your festering web inside my mind, biting me whenever my attention wanders…
Leading me astray, swaying my affections, like an addict begging for another hint, a whiff, a touch…
I guess I should be happy, I did beg you to return, and return you have like a phoenix from the ashes of the past…