Author Archives: MuseWriter

About MuseWriter

I am a writer.

Birds of a yellow feather getting wet in the rain


I closed my eyes against the rain and in the darkness saw a new depth
Unrecognizable layers in shadow with their angles reflecting like mirrors onto each other
Losing sight in the moment to see an illuminated scene from a different time
Feeling more as I was rather than how I am
A happy escape into a moment of peace while
Hanging onto a wistful acceptance that comes and goes as he pleases
I find myself grateful to be a piece of the dream at all
And glad for the rain here and now
Pulling me back from the hollows where I’ve known to get lost before

I’m grateful for the show ❤

both sides of light


I awoke in the familiar spruce-fir forest

as the bottom of the sky started to glow.

The salmon orange hue filling me up

warming soul to the thought of a new day.

Darkness skulking, hesitant but knowing its time is done

a soldier of Morpheus following the command in full retreat.

With no thought for the fair Luna

ever hopeful to embrace the rays of the sun.

I welcomed her at first breath

as one able to love both sides of light.

Wondering if the affair would ever be won but we’ll never know

feeling a trespasser in this mood of liminal comfort.

Thoughts I laid to rest in the familiar spruce-fir forest

as a brilliant blanket of stars folded out overhead.

I am grateful for Dream ❤

In the doldrums

On a lake up north – 2020

Quiet time…no

Maybe never again

Commiserating in the doldrums

This ever deafening passion consumes entirely

Never enough

But we give, and give, and give

I surrendered long before I was born

A fool’s gift to reclaim this stubborn World


Horrifyingly ridiculous

Covid panic crafting terror dreams in anxiety

And all the time to consider sociopathic aspirations

They kill

Through their words

And with the influence of bargain-counter dogmas

A kiss to apathy in hopes of starving what intelligence is left

Here’s to the sun

To all my scattered fragments

Resigned to an act of squeezing eyes shut for centuries

Limitless as fireflies of love rather than bending to consciousness

An image

A forgotten reflection

A misplaced memory you once had

Really never meant anything to anyone at all anyway

I am grateful for spellcheck ❤

Bird and Fish

Bird and Fish

Looking for artifacts in the abyss –

Confused as I was (am), as angry as I got (get)
I forgot (forget) we’re both floating.
Aimlessly, eternally;
having given up on the rescue long ago.
I’m sorry – I AM SORRY – yea, I really mean it this time!
I never meant to make you apologize.
I never meant for your nightmarish anguish, or mine.
Hanging onto the precipice has always felt ‘right’
Never knowing what reality we dream.
I want you to be fine
I want you to keep trying, to fucking stay alive.
Whether we’re floating on top of the clouds or in the deepest of water
I don’t always mind the discomfort as long as we’re floating together.

Really real or not.

What that means for your weather…could you answer the same of mine?

I am grateful for new ❤

Insert Title X


They say he continues to exist there, in ethereal abandonment –

a place

half removed from his liminal state.

The Fall

claiming keeper to all of what (who) was lost

but these

fragments of ruminations linger.

It’s noiseless, save for the shrill cries ringing in head.


fade in and out as puzzle pieces scatter;

perceptual abnormalities distorting, twisting time and space.


builds doubt into something unrecognizable again…

another nebulous


– if I were

she and he were me –


recognize ourselves in each other;

am I wrong?


Humming or – someone singing into THE apparent nothing


except for me.


trailing softly, floating. Finding me effortlessly.


sweet but finishing a bit defiantly –

or perhaps

a projection of my own truth?


pounding loudly, hanging in the silence

Waiting, as

if the entire world was listening;

but there

was only me and

my breath

hanging in the air.

My single friend in the cold night;

despite it

being June on a Midwestern summer’s day.

The evoked

sensation sending chills down my spine


Beautiful aching love!

Oh how time defies me

Wrapped up in the day to day

Instead of comfortably in your arms…

I guess there’s always tomorrow.


And then look at you, you grew up into a body celebrated, famous –

or perhaps it’s just you. You’ve always been destined for greatness;

maybe this was the only relatable obtainment in this day and age.

Regardless, I’d be lying if I said my happiness for you is simply selfless

I AM selfish and find myself disgusted in the habitual nonsense 

It’s challenging here but we shuffle the playlist…

…on the worst days, the best songs are worthy of repeating over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and…


Nothing profound at all to say but goddamn! my heart is bursting with emotion

An ugly nagging response to my intended apathy

Perverting my mood of something worthy of meaning

The weight of the unsaid resting heavy…

Attempting to not get defensive and build barriers of dissociation. 

I am grateful for love ❤

Justice for Elijah McClain

Justice for Elijah McClain

“I can’t breathe. I have my ID right here. My name is Elijah McClain. That’s my house. I was just going home. I’m an introvert. I’m just different. That’s all. I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me? I don’t even kill flies! I don’t eat meat! But I don’t judge people who do eat meat. Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity. I’ll do it. You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful. And I love you. Try to forgive me. I am a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt. You are all very strong. Team work makes the dream work…(crying)..oh I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly (proceeds to vomit from the pressure to his chest and neck)”

Elijah McClain was a kind and gentle 23 year old who worked as a massage therapist in Aurora, CO. On his lunch breaks from work, Elijah would go to the animal shelters and play violin for the animals because he thought that they were lonely in their cages and thought that the music would calm them. He was quirky, a pacifist, a vegetarian, enjoyed running, and known to put a smile on everyone’s face.

In August 2019, Elijah went to the gas station to buy some iced tea for himself and his cousins. Because he suffered from anemia, a condition in which you lack enough healthy red blood cells to carry enough oxygen to your body’s tissues, he would often wear a ski/ runner mask over his face to stay warm. On his way home, the Aurora Police department were called to reports of a “suspicious man”, likely due to Elijah wearing his mask for warmth and dancing to the music in his headphones. All Elijah was doing was WALKING HOME.

Warning for violent description:

Elijah was apprehended by a group of three cops, despite committing NO crime and being unarmed. A struggle occurred, and he was held in a very dangerous carotid hold around his neck while he cried for help, cried out that he couldn’t breathe, cried out that he was nonviolent and couldn’t even kill a fly, and was repeatedly throwing up. Elijah weighed a mere 140 pounds. You can hear on the audio footage, an officer instructing another the move their body camera out of view. Another threatened to “call in a dog to bite him, if he (Elijah) moved again”. While 3 Aurora Police Dept officers violently restrained him they called Aurora Fire Dept, who injected him with ketamine even tho he was already cuffed, a drug used to tranquilize horses or in surgeries while properly supervised by anesthesiologist. He went into cardiac arrest , slipped into a coma, and his family was advised to take him off life support 6 days later. As a result of this encounter, Elijah passed away at the age of 23.The officers have STILL NOT been charged in taking Elijah’s life. Elijah’s voice has been taken from him, so it is up to US to be his voice. We must DEMAND JUSTICE for Elijah.”

Please share his story.

Sign the petition:

Original post:

#BlackLivesMatter #ElijahMcClain

Artwork by Matty Miller Studio💕🎨

Inside / Out

Inside / Out

You see there’s a light on in the next room as a few beams sneak out from under the doorframe.
But you’ve never seen the room.
Or what’s inside.
You only know of the shadows that sometime appear, casting dancing figures on the floor in front of you as you remain in the dark.
It’s quiet when you stop to listen but you miss what you don’t hear.
Silence sending you down the spiral staircase of thought, where existence has no meaning or truth.
Where you can haunt among the ghosts.

You always thought truth is a fickle concept anyway.
You see there’s a light on in the next room as a few beams sneak out from under the doorframe.
But you’ve never knocked on the door.
Or asked who’s there.


I am grateful for a bit of free time. ❤



yelled the graying man
as he rode by on his bicycle.
A wind suit of blue blurring my vision;
his continued rantings inaudible…
Not that I felt compelled to engage in the conversation,
one-sided as it was.

Startled, I stared after him,
my eyes following his retreating figure.
Burning through feelings of opinions
that constantly linger in question.
Now, a few new ones to add to the collection;
with anger driving the day to day commitment (or just pathetic misery).

I examined myself completely – again;
mind, soul, body…clothing.
Lunch break dog walks for existential evaluations.
Adding to the focus of all of the moments building
into total nonrecognition of what IN THE MOMENT means.
Untucked collared shirt creating a liminal picture of me;
walking the line, living multiple lives at the same time.
What an archaic response to today’s ennui.

I am grateful for all perspectives.

Memories from 8-20-13


Paths 8-20-13

How many paths must we cross,

Must we stumble through;

Guessing which part of the fork is best positioned for the tastiest bite?

To chew on the destination of thoughts that enable blood to pump and flow

Parallel to the bordered trail like a stream;

A continuous reminder of water and the other elements one person needs to survive

Removing the requirements of life and focusing on all that is surrendered

To a compartmentalized pandora’s box

Categorizing important cargo in a wooden reminder of vulnerability

Dried salmon candle wax puddled on the cracked surface

Staining the purity of all that embraces my mind

Read the rest of this entry

People Are Strange

People Are Strange

People are going to be mean. They will be inconsiderate and sometimes cruel or unsympathetic in their expectations and understanding. We will misunderstand one another and create barriers of disassociation. And it hurts. This pain, it can bring out the worst in us. It can distort how we interact with others. How we see ourselves or even, how we believe others see us in return. People are going to use you. They will manipulate your pain, sometimes without meaning. They will let their insecurities drive focus of opinion into a kind-of forced interpretation of reality that only ever exists in their minds. We lose ourselves in the isolation of thought. We lose each other.

“People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down”

I am grateful for moments of clarity in connecting to others