Seven in the night
When the last of the light disappears into the horizon
Souls are at seeming ease, in perfect conspiracy
Quietly on the prowl for miles
Seeking for even the brevity of smiles
Hinted with the briefest of naivety
To complete the symphony
What else can be done? Maybe more?
Before the night darkness envelops
And the full moon brings out the owls and the howls
Just some of my juxtaposing musings
See I have been toyed with.
Embarrassed and humiliated.
How many times now?
Though I cannot well remember,
For my thoughts are rambled and scrambled in more ways
Than a hooker lays
Of what use is it to remember well anyway?
Another one bites the dust
Now the piper demands payment
Who will count tonight’s sighs?
Caressing my veins
Surging blood moves my pen
On paper moistened by bound blood, tears and cheap wine
Pondering what is the texture of desire, volume and pitch of love
Another one for the winding road