• “Sway”

    Years of contusion,

    Then illusion.

    Drink for fusion,

    Reason gone on holiday.

    I hear beats that make me sway

    Perfectly painted faces,

    With all the colors of exotic birds.

    Without the shell, 

    How could we grade and degrade?

    The click of pointed heels at dusk

    Air wears the scent of the gentleman’s cigar.

    Driven to unknown spaces 

    In search of faceless names

    Covered in burgundy velvet and rows of black suits

    Drowning in goblets of Cabernet

    Memories swimming despite valiant efforts at submersion. 


    I hear a beat;

    One that makes me sway. 

    “True Minds”

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    “Sapphire Nights”

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