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Film noir
Maybe I need to work less, sleep more.
Or maybe a tick has finally found his way to my groin
Giving me Lyme's disease.

Sunglasses play a part
In darkening the question; (more)
Fingers of daylight close
like an empty fist.
The city is darker than black.
The day's almost midnight
and secrets have been passed.
Drunken words for a sober mind. (more)
As the night rolls through the hills and valleys
My mind wanders through the dead-end alleys
Of a port side town as the snow floats down
I use the rust covered railings to guide me

The moon shines yellow through the avenue (more)
Between the lines you’ll find
Knife wielding assailants
Yellowed-eyed winos
The unemployment line

Between the lines you’ll find (more)
Sometimes the streets gray concrete
creeps up on me.
The night begins to swim.
The moon like driftwood
bobs across the sky,
as my thoughts drift aimlessly to her. (more)
I sit at the sidewalk café and
Watch the people
Not much else to do
I see them, but I don’t
They are just silhouettes
Hazy outlines of (more)
Her words have weight
Like they could anchor a ship.
How many drinks does it take
To turn memories to ash?
Now, that's some modern day alchemy for ya.
Colors running from the night
Where the dawn submits a losing fight
A lullaby of love we sing

The cool breeze kisses your breasts, O flower of flesh!
Mixing with the mind of all that’s left
Beautiful blooms arouse the spring

Breathing life within our soul
It gets dark so early this time of year.
The sun sinks away at five.
The children slink away at seven.
The streets bathed in sin and song.
A hemorrhage of light bleeds through the alleyways,
rounding the soft corners near my window. (more)
naked eye winks, easing around the corner.
fabric falling from her shoulders,
burning like day old newspaper.
satan smiles in a satin gown.
dark night bright around the edges
like your eyes around the center. (more)
I see the vultures circling Penn Street
Rats wear hoods on this side of town
I can’t seem to get my bearings
It’s unseasonably warm for this time of year
But you can feel the cold a-comin’
You can smell it (more)
Alcohol monologues
Told to street curb gutters
Police cars screaming
Obscenities from
Blacked out alleys
Shivering replies in the Naugahyde booths
Cold shoulders ‘neath the heated neon
The lights cut like daggers
I’m not drunk, I’m staggering
From the loss of blood (and hope)
for what?
for the moon to finally rise from slumber.
for the ice to merrily mix with my whiskey.
for the day to finally come to a close.
so precious the time yet we wish it all away, (more)
I was at the corner of fifth and Vermouth
trying to drown my sorrows,
I didn't know the little bastards could swim.
Smooth, dark wood and dancing neons.
Bottles lined up like dominos.
My words have taken anchor in my throat. (more)