Untitled Despair

It’s the first of many such nights for me: the saxophone grinding away in the lightbulb and nothing to fill my belly with. Alone in my world: no friends to greet me and no one to talk to: the beetle that strikes the wall again and again. Sprinklers hissing in the night.

Dark black cold lonely night, as dark and cold and black and lonely as space. Is that the same motorcycle which grinds by every night? Going by like clouds torn in half?

I can’t call her name. All of my mind is exhausted. But replenished by passing through a scale of colors. Flute notes going out into the dark.

♪ Antonio Carlos Jobim – Wave (1963) ♪

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s