Again the night comes down from the eaves and trees, shadows filling up the scenery, the day done at once. The day came and went without any help from me, things ever as they are always. The sun swinging by without asking, the light comes and goes, leaves me to my notebooks and my catacombs. Around in sick circles I carry the ember, the torch I bear, the flame I keep. The west just a whisper, and I speak your name. I breathe the wicked atmosphere and I say your name.
I swallow the black coffee, I smoke the smoldering cigar, I hold close the roots and the radiance, the linger and the light. I dwindle down to the vigil, I take the moment to my heel. The heart settles the rhythm, the blood breaks upon the shores, entity and organism. The animal and its eyes. The night falls fast, buried and burned and stirring in its tomb. I tie blessing after blessing to the tail of the moon, awaiting the invocation. Here for the slow unfolding, waiting for the invitation.
The hours slow, thickening in the smoke and shadow, gaining their depth in the dark. Cars glide by, the trembling reach of headlights, the taillights hoping no one looks. The flesh shines in slips and slivers, the turning car, the garage lit and tumbling white into the night. The breath struggles through the stones and gargoyles strewn about the atmosphere, the landscape of the badlands clambering through the lungs. Lonesome, I crave the devotions of adoration, the magic of the stations met and the ritual kept. The empty seeps and pools, the animal anchored between earth and moon, the entity awaiting your shine. Eyes open wide, all for the asking.