Rain on snares meters the pace.
Smooth, rolling, blue.
The sax man wails.
A smoke-filled club . . .
And the night . . . melts . . . into yesterday.
Time flits through
On wings of an old song.
The ivory tones chase strings of gold
Through the gentle, crashing waves.
While we race the bleating brass,
The bass line leads us home.
as I slip into the night, the water crashes in around me.
my lover’s body is inches away, yet millions of miles split us.
the chasm of desire lost.
the void of lust drowned.
the pit of love fading.
The holes these leave are filled with naught,
a draught to wash away the pain.
jet black, inky darkness envelopes the last ounce of joy
pure moments of true happiness are fleeting at best
dull, lifeless routine, is de rigueur.
how can anyone survive in this guise, let alone truly live?