Whore of a Muse by Brian Rosenberger

At times, he wonders if it’s worth it.

Never knowing his audience, if and by whom, his work is read.

Still he hopes. Sitting at the typer, long lonely nights, listening to

Monster Magnet, Rollins, and Hank III, drunk on bourbon and Pepsi and thoughts of what might-have-been and never-was, and God-Damn-did-I-actually-do-that?

He eyeballs the midget, short skirt (like duh!; it wouldn’t be a long skirt), those thick, welcoming thighs, her smile, red as Satan’s asshole courtesy of Cherry Kool-Aid and cheap Russian vodka.

Is it worth it? Word after lonely word, struggling to get the syntax perfect.

He dons the latex raccoon mask and steps forward, memorizing the setting, Cinnabon incense, and Slipknot posters, everything looks  better by candlelight, images stored for later. What matter is the Now; his hard-on points the way.

Is it worth it? What he does for inspiration? At this point, seeing the midget smile, what comes after, is gravy.

 

______

Brian Rosenberger is author of Poems Found… Somewhere, a micro-chapbook available free through Nostrovia! Poetry

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Published by

Jeremiah Walton

Jeremiah Walton is wary of writing a bio.

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