Over-cooked

It's strange that a lot of inspirations to write usually come to me when I'm out ballooning. I'm in the middle of making a balloon and some word or phrase will suddenly give me an inspiration to write it down on paper. Sometimes it comes out in pure eloquence, like I'm writing liquid, and other times it comes out in spurts, like I'm choking to get every word out. The latter happens more often than the former I'm afraid.
Thus the following...

Murder, she purred
Through silken sheets
And dimming lights
As the clocks count
She purred again
The yarn unwound
Lay draped across
Alabaster
Time was murdered
The yarn lay dead
Red streamed on silk
As she just purred
Cooing beneath
Murder, death, strife
*End*

That was an inspiration that hit me while ballooning at IHOP. From where it stemmed, I have no clue. But it just came, in little spurts as you can see.

Anyhow, there was something else Iwas going to say, but it has been cooking in my brain for a while today, and I fear that it may turn out a bit over cooked in the end. (there goes the fire alarm!) So sadly, it has been thrown out the window.
My brain has died, my thoughts have flown, and all that is left, is an empty head.

the myth, signs out