Headed Downtown For The Literary Type

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

Headed downtown for the literary type
Searching for the scribes of our weary day
To heal my heart with words that matter
I’ve tried, but I don’t see any other way

Falling stars may not mean much to you
But I’m here without any expectation or hope
Where do we find our reasons for love
Even we can kill our dreams, given enough rope

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

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The twinkling of stars at night
Dispatched souls with nothing to lose
Our lost matchbook fantasies
Dwindling into aging suburban blues
Not fond of Covid nor the Spanish Flu
I’d rather have some Spanish Fly
Mix it in my cup, “yo baby, what’s up?”
I’m still that awkward ass, abnormative guy
Fading time to time into darkness
But I try to emerge into the light these days
A bounce in my step/mischief in my eye
Growing younger in spirit despite all these grays