Music and Women

'Music and Women'


Music is furniture

An atmosphere

The best piece being the understated overture.


Women begin to inflict me

Prick at me with clawing felinity

Hurting me, murdering me slowly.


My mind is unkempt

Desires and whims are thus left

Ne'er to be sated, adding to acute discontent.


Bereft and spiritually in debt

I'm trapped in penning these tedious triplets

One after the other, minute by minute.


Their sole purposes to decorate time

Embellish space, fill a line

But nothing more, nothing else to consign


Nothing else to signify.