L'aura del Campo

April 25: muse on a disease or illness of any kind [50]

Parasite

         to my Muse

You give me dreams
but not the means
to build a scaffold
to hang them on,
promise powder puff skies
that hide at night
dissipate by day

so many rainbows
so little rain
just enough moisture
to keep on living
my body a host
for your visions.

When I'm finished
sucked dry
an empty husk
left to crumble to dust
where will you go
who will welcome you next.

KE [177.50] (25.aprille.2020)