drinks in winter rain like cold moscato coating her tongue with nimbus swell – spends time staring out windows not saying a word day dreaming mad hallucinations behind calm eyes – image of serenity – screaming incessantly from the pillow padded sound proofed cell of a damaged soul – watch her move and sway rhythmic…
Tag: Lonesome
Riding the Rails on the Edge of Night
As night encroaches on lonesome suburbia, I prepare to meet it. Placing all things in order, I head to the cabinet drawing forth a bottle, still half full, of sweet, fragrant cognac to nurse the edge of a passing day. Uncorking the spiced elixir, I pour it into a cheap snifter, returning the bottle to…
Piecework Prose 