She Comes Without Knocking

i could fall asleep if i could just get past all of the words. the muse always comes when you're already in bed & naked or on the toilet reading paperbacks. she comes without knocking on days i can't even find a pen. she came so i gave her a beer & hoped she'd stay a while. a televangelist was praying for assassinations, but i couldn't have pulled a dead dictator out of the clogged toilet. a red cross volunteer knocked at the door asking for money help sympathy pity & more money. "do you want a beer?" i asked her. the pain felt so painless when it was that far away. the closer it gets the more alive it seems. it was alright to play outside again. it might be our last chance. back inside the beer was gone & so was my muse. somewhere towards the back a toilet was flushing.