The Inspiration Bug

I’m pantsless so the Inspiration Bug can bite me on leg.
This evening’s topic hasn’t R.S.V.P.’d. Though I hate to beg,
This train of thought is moving: I’m composing, but I don’t know what
The melody will sound like. Come on, I-Bug, bite me! Taste my butt!
It’s chilly in October and my legs are pimpled like a goose’s.
Maybe I should put my hospitality to better uses?
Fine. I’ll wave the hanky. I surrender. Pass my sweatpants, please?
I’m cold and out of options, plus there’s chicken skin on both my knees.
The Inspiration Bug is never coming. I accept that now.
I’m beaten. No more I-Bug. Have you met my friend, Creative Cow?


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