Hunter S. Thompson's Muse

Awake, my fractured mind
deserted in the valley
floats hopelessly
between the left and the right
hemisphere.
I scream with anguish and spite
but the words are dead quiet;
no human ear to listen my despair.

So far my spirit was
so disconnected from my head and from my heart..
a drifter in the summer of our discontent.

Suddenly -
a fleet of foxes arrive
from the city of colour and lights.
And on their furry backs
she makes her vivid appearance.
my bloody heart starts pumping in her sight,
oxygen swirls through my head and right
there, my new found muse shreds the veil of fear
and blind delay -
the wordy tongue though resurrects.