My Muse Whispers

If I listen to my love, turn it into a life’s work,

To toil at it day and night, all the time,

Forgoing food, drink, bath, sex, other people,

Those beautiful distracting pleasures,

Lay down power over countless hours,

Am I therefore a workaholic?

Or am I addicted to love,

And what I love instead?

Crazy enough not to stumble into doing something,

That I would love to complain, hate, about,

Unable to wait, simply live off the weekend,

A warrior but my armour isn’t worn part time,

Even if it did entail untold financial fortunes,

To my obsessed mind it would feel like,

Petty compensation,

For the torture I would have to endure.