I gaze out of the window in the drunken hours -
a battered ford Mondeo looms out of the darkness,
unmoving on the pavement, reassuring and ghost-like.
the crackle of the polish neighbours' cheerful television set
A familiar scene is illuminated by the streetlight's yellow glow.
An ashtray sits on the windowsill of the record shop
lace curtains billow in the night breeze
Red wine in a mug, giggles and faint music
Creaking swings in the city park
and window lights dotted few and far between.
the dirt of my windowbox smells rich and dark
and my wilted sunflowers have closed up for the night.

Dust Devils in between the sheets
Moth smell, dreamlike
A small and friendly memory
Let the morning sun pour in
Musted air and brown teakwood
Dusty sun in dusty eyes

Smooth the cotton, pale and sweet
Lace touch, fresh smell
Crinkled to infinity
Dust devils in their linen paradise

hot cracked earth, fierce cigarette
dark, dark hair on fired sand.
subtle gasp,  failure to grasp
my remaining chords of sanity
I give myself to rock and roll!

kisses on my wind scorched lips,
whisky tainted,
orange dusted,
belonging to my delirium.
darkness in the cosmic pit
sinking in these star-crossed dunes
Campfire burns, hot earth churns,
A thousand whispered promises.

hot red wind and night-time fire
the quiet strum of your guitar
vultures circle, dry and wet,
I spend my love on these bone sands
a sweet Nevadan promise land

love burns gold, sunray's glow
circles in the hot dry earth
breath of wind, a calming buzz
hisses near, promise of venom
a poison bite, bloodless flow
I warm myself in desert sun
and **** that perfect passion man.

Photographs blown in Saharan breeze
faded, dusty memories
Egyptian particles of stone
Hazy air and moonlight touch
Skull runs dry, rusted love
A thousand whispered promises.

A one night show, cheap liquor and ***
breath of fierce cigarette
sand in eyes, night burns hot
moon rises on tides the sea forgot
Dried up dreams and lost forever
A sweet Nevadan promise land

Deep in the heart of the silent backwoods
Heart racing, palms glazed silver with sweat, I walk.
I walk alone.
Feet crunching earth,
The rich, bitter scent of wet moss in October
snakes into my nostrils,
A dark and cautious entity, filling my head with whimsical fancies.
I drink it in, like a beggar nursing his Absinthe
Allowing the night air to probe my nose and mouth.
A twig snaps.
Am I Alone?
But I'm protected by the night, the quiet, charming night,
And now I'm spinning, laughing, drunk on the air!
These backwoods are full of midnight musings, strange faces and all the colors of faerie
Still I walk and the woods are silent.
Neither cricket's whisper nor owl's hoot can penetrate the scream of this total silence
The air shifts, heavy with a slick metallic presence. Goosebumps and a muffled whimper.
I don't mind that I'm not alone.