Bar post content, spun by spattered rhythm played aloud through cheap speakers. The smell of thin cigars, lazy ice clinking in glasses,
And cool air for a change, making the mood a bit melancholy with the thought of fall fast approaching.

Tinny deep voice keeps drowning out my thoughts. Seems I can't focus any longer
On the things I want to write about. Too long been doctored up by some means of blurring the whole world different-like. Can't conceptualize the living world of which I'm a part of.

Broken bottle crashes and saturated
Surface with the smell of beer and
Whisky. That's just work for you.
That's the signifier. I'm a wet horse
Run into a cliff, I'm a night bird.
I'm slow, I lumber at my own pace.
I give my all, spilled sticky on the
Clay tiles, with faded colors
Of dusty footprints.

Oh I'm just a simple, quiet fool.
I have foregone the moment for the
Moment's thought. I drift like a lazy
Little boat, barely tied down. I bow much
To the broken parts of my being.
I don't know if I'm where I should be.
Heart doesn't do much these days.
Low income housing situation.

End of the night I'm out.
Cold one, smoke, wipe the sweat off my brow. Wind that head down to
A walk and some music.
Become transparent.