We Are Not Able To Limit Ourselves

My muse types thoughtlessly and aimlessly; I have named her Trixie. So if she gets too outrageous, steps over two lines so to speak, I have someone to blame. Damn that Trixie! Trixie got carried away again. Trixie forgot to take her lithium. Sometimes I look at a line and think “Not that!” and I do not do it. But more often I think “why not? Let’s see what happens?” I have an impossible time trying to discipline myself. Myself is wild and free, a pony without a bridle. Myself is a young willow tree, flirting with the wind. Myself is not easily tempered or tampered. Between Trixie and myself, anything can be thrown onto a page. Um, maybe not that, I think as something truly outrageous appears. Shut up! Trixie says. It will stand; I will fight you to the death to let it stand. Between Trixie and me, she always wins. Neither one of us is good at limiting us.