Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.

My muse has tripped
And fallen
Down the stairs
She hit her eye
On the doorknob
And now wears
Dark glasses
That cover the shame
Of her silence
And shield her
From the stares
I can't sleep at night
Listening for creeping feet
For she too
Is Irish in her soul

All I want is to stay
with someone I love and rely on
under a tree
have a cigarette
As serenity fills the scene
and it feels like movie scene
We have faded in our own world
Faded like the colors in the polaroid camera
and this doesn't have to rhyme
cause it's mine
my perfect world

So,
i played my tunes,
walked the stage,
looked at the board,
and i was amazed.
'cause infront of my eyes,
and muh trombone as well,
straight 1's stared back,
and i said,
"swell"

My muse has tripped
And fallen
Down the stairs
A fracture perhaps
Keeps her silent
But I know she will
Return soon
To lament and moan
For she too
Is Irish in her soul

I make coffee
As you read the paper
And jot down your thoughts from the night before

Typical of you, April
To go and make madmen of us all

Your warm touch
As you greet me from behind
The morning light seeping through
Our tattered blinds

As you eat your breakfast
You tell me there is no need to worry,
Everything will work out

I believe you
Your eyes are innocent as you talk

Slowly you rid of my disguise
As you lean in for a kiss
We go about our days
And we bask in what we now know
As happiness

Just like the rusted
hinges
latched to the door
of my once
lively home,
and all the things
you never
cared to say.

    I'm barely
          hanging on.

Let's see…

There's one who likes to smoke
Just as much as me
Curly brown hair he wears
And quite the beard has he

Theres one who likes to ride bikes
Just like I do
He's small, he's sharp, and a handsome one
But something doesn't do

There's one who dresses like I dress
And likes to read, too
That makes for quite the man, you know
You should see his blue suade shoes

There's one who says few words
Similar to I
He looks, and smiles, and when he laughs,
God I want to cry!

There's one who says too many words
He's a mess, a know it all
But something in the way he moves-
Stop!-
Why must I think of him at all

There's one who likes to climb mountains
And look off in the distance
Some might say he lives like me
To create a beautiful existence

There's one who is scared to dive in
To a world he doesn't know
I want to hold him, tell him it's okay
Being scared is how you grow

There's too many options,
And there will only be more to come
So how am I supposed to choose
Out of six billion, just one?

I don't go to church
and I don't know if I believe in the things
that go on in church,
but I do know
that when I
randomly
happen to hear
those
church bells
on Sundays
I
feel
alive

and maybe
it is in
those
moments
that I realize
what church is
supposed to
make you feel.