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.
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