You Need A New Muse

Poets, if your muse smells like eggnog, boiled eggs, fresh eggs,
or any sort of egg at all: get a new muse. If your muse makes sounds-
chomping or mewing, smacking, or worse, slurping - when she eats
animal crackers: you need a new muse. If she’s that sloppy gal that
downs a pint and hollers, “Freebird” at the bar, you know where I’m going with this:
you need a new muse. And trust me, pudding, when your muse misquotes
Bill Cosby while eating jello, you're going to wish you had gotten yourself
that new muse.

If she begins to insist on beginning debates with “irregardless,”
you won't need a dictionary to tell that you need a new muse. Even brings
to question your rhyme scheme or does not know how to tell you
she set the table in iambic pentameter, seriously, you need
a new muse. If you can’t get her to write you letters, but can’t break her
from sending four-page texts, then it’s time to call in a new muse. If she doesn’t know
the difference between there-their-they’re, then there-there-there’s your problem:
you need a new muse.

Sure, carry on how you like, but when your muse suffers
from momentary sensuality or cannot match her socks; tells you to leave
the light on when nobody's home; wears Velcro shoes –
you're going to wish you had a new muse. Worse, if she tries to play
stare-out when she kisses you, or thinks gluing things together is by far
the most intriguing thing you can do to pass the afternoon, you might consider
getting a new muse. And if your muse thinks she has the moves like Jagger,
oh god, just give it up, there's no saving her at all. You need
a new muse.