Muse.

She is fried bacon
my ceramic membrane cannot escape
She is sickly desire
and I cannot part
memories of ocean side
bubble baths
and the best New Year's Eve
I've ever had
: steam punk cigarettes
and perfect crimson heels
I can never wear again

She infects finely groomed nails
the dripping muse I can only capture
in dreams

The haiku master told me
in her final breathing sonnet:

heartbreak
open door
a writer's heart

and then she told me it was not a haiku
only an observation
as the bourbon rocks crashed from her hand

I was wild
unbridled
unbroken
gouging my flesh
on thickets of Himalayan Blackberry.
Blood pooled my toes
filling cracks with cakes deep and red
I only wanted to fly
Each attempt I lost one:

one respect
one humility
one mystery
then respect again

And my muse remained
quizzical
crinkled between the eyes
soothing fevers in my sleep
applying lye to open wounds
dipping fluoride to my water hole.
She tried to save me
soothe me
give me just a little bit more-
She lost herself.

Her ceramic membrane could not escape
the sick intoxication
fried bacon stuck in her vegan grooves
my blood drowning her body
night after night after-

I cannot escape my muse
fire in a broken heart
we've found it once again.