dead, or just
blissfully dying
are we nothing
but cheap ghosts
waiting to live
waiting..to stumble
onto something new
something, more interesting
than the ticking of the clock
quiet hours
become quiet days
the buzz fades
and bestial bones creak
as wisdom forgets romance
and brilliant bodies drift
within currents of
apathy and revolution
whistling wasted wavelengths
in the rain
under the stars
words become worthless
words betray muted intent
and afternoon eyes stare
casting a killing glare
in the wake
of this fading affair
movements become memories
and memories become
mutations
meditations
of another life
passive and scattered
among rusted temples
running with the raven
nothing is easy
so forget these dirty questions
that kill our sainted passions
lonely fates caress
time lost
to dull desires
flowers bloom in reverse
as egos become inert
and tired blood
remembers
naked fields
of glorious blues
