Muses, muses, nothing to me but waste
Why does my tongue so desire their taste?
For them on their knees, for their sly diseases,
Just more mad muses; goddamned teases.
Oh, they smile, when they see my face,
But only wince at me when I offer embrace.
Oh, how they laugh, when they finally give in,
But still see my touch as negative sin.
They only do what they want to do
They only play love when convenient to screw.
They never cry. They never stay.
All I know of them is them walking away.
All I offer is anything they want me to be--
If were all just friends, stop rubbing on me.
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Submission Name: Muses
