Darkness In a Four Room Attic

Midnight's hollow streets... Rolls Royce crushes cigarette butts as sinful, cold drizzle of animalistic desire lurks on shadowy corners of locked buildings, for a price... negotiable.. Balconies bear yesterday's broken beads as a jazz musician is soundly asleep. So much hard numbness in those easy to open bottles... It rains over useless signs: " Do Not Park On Bridge!" Skid marks end in despair... A street light dies totally alone... The phone rings with a grin looking for a Call Girl. ... Hello? I tear out my heart and replace it with a wallet Lipstick crosses boundaries of good taste so romance cannot develop. I lay down frames with pictures of loved ones, face down...execution style...as I pour myself a glass of Morality Suicide...I drink it before I let myself go for, yet, another night of desensitized numbness...