Its slightest tremor
rattles the delicate seismograph
of their sleep.
In the quaint little attics
of their minds and hearts,
painted with a coat
of fresh shadow,
its uninvited Muse
takes up her permanent residence.
It’s the accouterment of genius,
plastered to the flesh of prodigies,
propelling them relentlessly
toward the unattainable goal
of perfection.
When harnessed for their art,
it’s the source
of their finest hours;
when not, it rages on,
caving in the banks
of equanimity, exacting
its ravishing revenge.
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