To the Muse.

Don’t be silent,
looking with your eyes – so violent.
Give me Pleasure.
You know that for my love there is no measure.
Make me write another line!
Whisper with your voice divine!
Words are spilling on the floor.
Let me beg you here for more.
My aching fingers start to shiver,
my head is burning from the fever.
I’m lying here with the blurry sight
of the sinner who has given up the fight.
Still crumbling I wonder why
my thoughts can only fly
when you’re touching with your eyes
my mind and mortifying my lonely cries.
Drink up all the mirthless rage.
Help me turn the other page.
Don’t run from me, please stay.
Or I’ll be with no joy – it’ll go away.
Squeeze my heart and drain the blood.
Drown the happiness just like a flood.

Inspire me, my Muse!
Leave the Vanity – from her I have no use.
The temptation burning in my mind is yours.
You throw away the keys, break down all the doors.
Come inside, the need is strong.
Wicked, bad or evil – it’ll be forever wrong.
Fill my conscious with the worst imagination.
Make it feel like an act of desecration!
Move my hand through the white sheets.
I’ll be humble, I won’t bite the hand that feeds.
Let’s create unholy words and things.
You and I fill all the missing links.
You make me write, I use my voice
to tell the world about my choice.
See me standing out in the crowd –
smiling, shouting how much I’m proud
to know what I want from life,
to have my mind sharp as a knife.
And probably, my muse, someday he’ll leave.
But still I know that he’ll believe.
Forget that he’ll be somewhere else.
I’ll keep him in my mind, 
writing all the gentle words he tells.


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Happy 21st birthday, my dear boy! Remember that if you want something from life - just reach out and grab it. I owe you too much to express everything I need to say in a few words. Here's the first English poem I wrote for you and because of you. I'll keep it here lest I forget where I come from... FYML


V.

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