Non-Erotic PoetryWhen Muse CallsWake to the rustle of verbiage
Beating against cerebral interior
Like the wings of manic bats
Besieged by belfry walls
The crisp crackle of concept
Flows like current through conduit
Sparklers lit, halos aglow
Quick, as not to rest with the dead
Grab pad and pen resting on the nightstand
Scribble with fury, lest the pilot light blows.
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