Drink deep obsidian from the cracked rim of the evening,
where the sharp edge of the sax slowly dissolving into mist,
tasting the cold twilight caught in the curve of a hollowed-out moon.
where the sharp edge of the sax slowly dissolving into mist,
tasting the cold twilight caught in the curve of a hollowed-out moon.
The vintage poured is pale as the low grey pulling wool,
unraveling its soft fog over the lonely grid of the streets,
pooling in the quiet alleyways where the heavy shadows learn to sink.
unraveling its soft fog over the lonely grid of the streets,
pooling in the quiet alleyways where the heavy shadows learn to sink.
A thin ribbon of cigarette smoke exhales itself into a rasping voice,
coiling around the glass to whisper secrets that the morning will forget,
a ghost of ash and static lingering in the corners of the crowded room.
coiling around the glass to whisper secrets that the morning will forget,
a ghost of ash and static lingering in the corners of the crowded room.
Fermenting the blues in the cellar of the late hours,
gradually becoming midnight with the thick, metallic scent of rain,
while the mist reforms into music, pulling the scattered edges back together.
gradually becoming midnight with the thick, metallic scent of rain,
while the mist reforms into music, pulling the scattered edges back together.
