The Moon and Rumination

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a man would look upon the stars, with such decisive awe, to find alone his heart. somewhere amongst the solar stories a spark ignites across his eye, and its known that starry heart his own, has set itself apart to signify some meaning in all the streaks and dots across the black-lit sky. luminous and pearled it begs above a world and looms, the view picturesque and human. and should a man alone speak out his soul against the fall of night, he’ll find his heart amongst the stars, from dark against the light.

Exposure

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somewhere along the line there are people, turned to light, etched into experience and burned to memory. these people, the times and words they speak, the places they were when you were too, in the end they all become you. their words inherit yours to share in memorial and wisdom, in expertise for all the dreams and dreamers, for the dreamless, for inspiration and insight. alive inside baiting on every breath for every momentary escape. when your past lives are coaxed with "why's" and goodbyes. parting, losing part of you in the minds of friends and lovers, and often others. but it's all alright, its all exposure, and we're all exposed; and in the end it's all we are. a sum of all the sons and daughters from all the faster fading suns and roads from which we rose.

Last Call

and he'll commemorate this mourning, all holy spirits feared. with the blood of all his vagrants, in his glass revered. a toast to all the angels in the ink of all their prayers. to lives we've left behind, three cheers. they loved us all despite our vices. last call, for all the blessed bare.

In Switchboard Myth

the truly missed connection is always spoken softly, in capital tones of regret. the scene is only set by separate parties, living lives resemblant in parallel lines. enough to cross the stars in only crossing someone's mind. holding on to time. objectified by the taste held close on baited breath. wasted on those all alone least favorite days, when waking up is a prayer, and I swear that just one more truth in a year of lies would be the one that changed forever both our lives. catch your breath. and in a second let your present catch up to your past, and realize that all the things that have passed you by are the same things that delivered yourself to you. true to form, that high and lonesome cry.