Muse

With the secret burgeoning inside them (and the excitement that it brought) he wrote:


Last night I dreamt you were here in my flat. – There were few details. You were part of a general impression. - I could not really see your face or what you were wearing! When you spoke, your lips curled up at me in depreciation. I thought – understand this was still in the dream:

Does the muse always do this?
Is cruelty forever a part of her writ?

This dream I confess has put me in a strange mood. I am oddly, bizarrely afraid, whether it is of your depreciation, and its flip side. I begin to feel that a vast irritation is awaiting us…