Lost Poem by lizard king

standing on the red hill
watching crazy Bill:
walking through the desert
with his hands on his pocket
troubled head on the ground
lift it to gaze at the sun
wondering where the muse is
why does she take so long
to set my hand free
and let me just be?
sorrow and misery,
loneliness and melancholy
are the visionary's tragedy.
crazy Bill will not leave the desert
determined to wait for the muse
that must have been stuck on a wire
or in the bottom of a bottle of wine
now, it is time to set his mind on fire.
the end.