you strike me as a figment of my imagination
a literal translation of my minds manifestation
an image burned into my retinas as a form of my first salutation
the ink bleeds, music tumbles and words skew the definition
i'm insanely stricken by the name that is simply mentioned
i fear I'm in love with the way your body moves in pre meditation
and so the music flows as a row of beauty forms in conjunction
thus here i stand with eyes and ears open in frustration
are you real? are you fake? words in lamination
but alas trust i must with the way the rhythm is formulating
and the question stands how are you my muse? my inspiration?

decided to try something different as the muse is definitely something different this time around.