dusty muses

fall has arrived!
and as i raise myself up
to greet the brightest
kaleidoscope of days
this worn-down city
can muster,
i coax blood
back into timid joints.

for i must scurry about
this worried mess,
this monument to absence,
in search of history -
yeah, in search of that
aging, neglected motivation;
by god,
i know she's here somewhere,
lovely muse,
lonely muse,
a girl all covered in dust...

soon, it is the pens creaking to life,
the gears greased with promises of
whatever it is that gears desire.
i hover somewhere
between the living and dead
and open my heart
(though not as wide as my eyes)
to attempt once more
to retain something
from the ghosts
who float
here.

method for living

deep within a late-night lullabye, your crybaby rampage unveils ramparts left stagnant in the dust. in the key of ill, forgotten tripwire alarms spit chaos into the silence of the night. why can't we all just be left alone? why can't we all know the loving embrace of another? beneath the trapdoor is defeat, the trigger is doubt, and the bypass is a carefully guarded secret home within our hearts. lay deep into silence, and prepare to be the champion of the dawn - because no day deserves to be treated like any other day.