I sat down and starting writing.
Muse was over my shoulder, massaging my hurting neck.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“My Job, Musing.”
“Knock it off! I am trying to work here.”
“Why don’t you sit down? I don’t need a spider looking over my shoulder.”
She looked a bit hurt and started to pout.
She parked her lovely self on my nasty couch. And glared at me.
I went back to my keyboard.
“Uh, Musey, What should I write?” I finally asked.
“You’re the fucking Genius; figure it out.”
“No! I do need and love you.”
“Write what is ON-YOUR-MIND.”
“My Erstwhile Girlfriend is on MY MIND.”
“Well, write that then.”
“Okay, I will. How should I begin?’
“A long apology letter might be a good start.”
“Alright; I will start with that.”
“Now we are getting somewhere.”
The Abusive Muse
Abusive Muse–Act Three and a Half–Interlude.
I miss my mind.