writing is to me

wait for it

like a mosquito

to insert its proboscis

slowly at first

then quick, rapid

fast

the world is spinning out of control

his mind is spinning with food thoughts

this drink

would be enough

for the whole night

or perhaps not

if his stomach is libidinous

you wait

with a flat hand

and rush

squash

blood smeared with black insect body

there you have your muse covered

in first draft