“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die
I don’t belong, and my beloved, neither do you
Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
I’m setting off, but not without my muse
I want auroras and sad prose
I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet
‘Cause I haven’t moved in years
And I want you right here
A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground
With no one around to tweet it
While I bathe in cliffside pools
With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief”
– Songwriters: Jack Antonoff / Taylor Alison Swift
The writing muse is finicky. My current lifestyle makes him/her/it hide a little more than I prefer. I’m ready for change. “I’m setting off, but not without my muse.”
elaina-avalos.com 
show not tell
malaise
shit aint well then i suppose
LikeLike
🤷🏽♀️
LikeLike
as per mr carter do not crap where you live or work. lmao
LikeLike
I have no clue what you are talking about.
LikeLike
sorry for any confusion. it is not my intent.
LikeLike
I have no issue crapping where I work.
LikeLike
did i write cramp? i meant crap. the lines were from the mel gibson movie payback. he was trying to recoup seventy grand that his former partner took from him. and the mob boss, mr carter tried to tutor him but he ended up catching a bullet instead.
LikeLike
no. my phone changed it to cramping and I re-wrote my comment. I still have no clue what that has to do with a post about my muse…
LikeLike
nada
LikeLike
Oh I see.
LikeLike