The Moon is My Muse


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When you dream awake, they call it a daydream

But I don’t dream of the day

I am seduced by the night

The moon is my muse and I long for another kiss

And I write in the light of his full face tonight

He pulls me in as if I were his only lover

And it is surely a lie

But he is all mine in my mind

And so together we write

Desert Dweller


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I seek out desert

Maybe that’s why I’m always thirsty

I’ve become adaptable

Like a lizard living under a rock

I no longer waste my tears

I no longer find myself wandering through unsteady sands

Yet here I am

Contemplating gently in place

Like a snake

My next strike will be purposely executed

We Called It Love


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The thing we called love

Was but a fleeting thought

A mere whim that we should have slain

The moment it was excreted – bleeding – from the womb

It was born nonetheless

Starved of breath like a candle’s dying light

Prolonged too long

Taking us two as its victims in its villainous ventures

And we called it love.



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Monotony – to me – is a prison of mediocrity

Only a change in the stasis, creation of static, sets me free

Sometimes creating chaos, I never mind – it’s movement all the same

It takes me up, it takes me down, it’s an unpredictable game

That’s the guarantee

And that’s the irony