Drunk Poem

Occupation: Muse
Was my intended plan
Inspire His
art.
Moldings, clay moldings, of artificial body parts
Like the kinds they make
In those cold, sterile labs across campus.

I searched for inspiration
In caverns
stuffed with daffodils.

How do I be better?
How do I be
Smart Pretty Funny But Not Too Funny But Not Too Smart Because The Smart Ones
think too much.
And Realize the experiment.
Realize that more pellets lay behind the door.
Convenience isn't freedom.

Freedom—

I was your muse.
From the moment you saw me
excuse me, I was one of your muses.
Because brunette is beautiful.
Like Belle, or whatever helps you sleep at night
Porn, probably.

Your aesthetic is perky
Your dream girl is pixie
I think you've watched too many movies.
Women walk into your shadow
and leave girls—
You call it romantic
I call it strategic manipulation.

keep batting your eyelashes
and wagging your tail
and sprinkling your pellets in the cage's dark corners
But I'm not amused
and I'm sure as hell
not your muse.