My old trumpets and trombone slides
Sit unopened and cured with the dusty attics formaldehyde aromas.
My lips dry up like mummified beef to their ancient smell of old black bibles and their taped up cardboard tombs. I find myself unable to break their mossy temple structures where I practiced my classical studies and could feel my whole kingly persona taming auditoriums and thrones of asp faced judges. But now my structure and stamina ruined and gone like a ginger bread piano.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
My old trumpets and trombone slides
Sit unopened and cured with the dusty attics formaldehyde aromas.
My lips dry up like mummified beef to their ancient smell of old black bibles and their taped up cardboard tombs. I find myself unable to break their mossy temple structures where I practiced my classical studies and could feel my whole kingly persona taming auditoriums and thrones of asp faced judges. But now my structure and stamina ruined and gone like a ginger bread piano.
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