Alone in the darkness of this May Day morning, I can hear the droning of my muse's air-raid sirens. Waiting for the next explosion of words drives me crazy like a moth flying into the summer fire. <br /> <br />word-bombs <br />slash the alleyways <br />of my mind... <br />the feel of a black tip <br />moving across the page<br /><br />Chenou Liu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-must-stay-drunk-on-writing-so-reality-cannot-destroy-me/
