languid

the sounds of the city ebb quiet in the morning. dowtown lapps light sounds of static growls against my windows edging gurgles the the radio. my mind is quiet troubled occasionally by a ringing in my ears suggesting i might miss the the more ribald interuptions merging within my calm reverie.

the guitar calls my dreams, work troubles my should'a been dayoffed brain, later to think of the week, not now... the sounds of subarachnoid space wail and echo in my thoughts. their ebows, reverb, delays and feedback caress my spirit with languid washes of vision and mind.

such troubles, such quiet, such whatnot... didn't even go out last night, thought i would but the black slumber invaded my wakefulness after being up for twenty-five hours friday. friday's party was good a little mysterious, buttons pushed, intimate rubbig and gnawing. oh the wine... the humour, the smiles from the forever gloomy. the scowls and silent emotes of glee and pleasure.

the ritual encircles. the rhythms return the phrase grows and wails and returns in the circles of flits.

today is beautiful. i can feel the sun and gentle moring light peer and discover the clear and cold world we have here in the city.



aluha,
j