My Muse

My muse is whispering to me soft words, dark and rich and throaty and completely incomprehensible. It wouldn’t surprise me to have a muse who whispers naughty thoughts in my ear. I picture a cartoon of myself with a good angel and a naughty devil(both female of course cause who else am I going to listen to) eyeing each other and a slutty muse lounging curled around my ear.

The angel looks up as if to say, “Why me…why am I tried so?.” And the devil chick looks over saying, “Hey bitch this is my man and you best find somewhere else to park your skanky ass; although it is a nice ass and those boots are to die for. Do you like girls? Cause you know this angel bitch doesn’t put out and you know we could come to some kind of arrangement.” My angel rolls her eyes and whispers in my ear about duty, honor, and compassion as the other two make out. She looks up and gives a wink to the sky praying softly under her breath, “Thank you for your many blessings, even when we don’t understand at first, and they come in the form of sluts with short attention spans, and smackable asses.”

She stands and looks over at the other two with a hungry look in her eyes, a cane in one hand and a riding crop in the other. “I will fear no evil. For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”