My aftershave smells like a mixture of rum and pity.

A man at the bar says to me that he hates to see another drinking alone but I made it this way.

I play a Thin Lizzy song on the jukebox and fall in to the shadows of the rows.

The pull of a hyena moon is taking me under.

I’m forgetting pain, love songs are murdered; the wrist of the junkie meets the eye of slaughter.

Trudging through the old town; a ghost walking, looking for the echo of friends who have already escaped on the midnight train.

Numb my lips and pour me under ‘till I dream through the streets like water.

Dawn is coming.

I want to be gone.

Dear Buddha, can you help me?

I’ll meet you in Amsterdam.

I’ll know your heart by the tears on my face


Copyright © 2019 by Adrian Calloo
All rights reserved.


Purchase Night Flutes: A Book of Poetry

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