A Phantasmagoria of Nonsense

I searched in vain for inspiration. I even climbed the sacred Parnassus Where all the muses reside. I danced with them Engaged in endless discourse. All in vain. Then I resigned to my fate. Oh Pythagoras? How I refused Ever to believe in your metempsychosis? Alas that meritocracy should be reborn Reborn to write again, Reborn from darkness and void Reborn to mock myself again. With a splash of painted words, Disjointed, without sense. A sickly morbid earthling Fed on the slums and dregs of earth, Pampered on deadly drugs., Only to be haunted by a thousand empty dreams. Now I solely scribble: A mass of oddly disjointed lines, Words upon words, a phantasmagoria of nonsense, While ashes fall upon the yellow pages Scented with nicotine of stale cigars.