I can see
myself
calling out your
name
and meeting
a knowing glance.
Is it fair
that when it
rains
it pours?


Why do we have to kill the magic with reality? Will I always have to hold and see how long it'll be before the bomb drops?

That's exactly
what a muse is...
music
ambiance
and the gentleman barfly
touting a very interesting
prospect.

When exactly did I become a Gold Miner?