nocturnal #9

and there were stars, – brass pins
pierced into the greasy velvet of the night.

a monotonic highway lullaby
a midnight breeze whispering behind
the hanging valance.

her breath below my waterline
and rustling demons of the night
under the squeaking bed.

and my fretful empiricism
insatiable for more delight.

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nocturnal #7

he is a semi drunk office plankton
with the titled tie, on his sweaty neck.
wearing a worn out on the elbows suit
and a faux leather laptop bag on his back.

he was whispering something to the ear
of some tipsy with a percocet dullness in her eyes
woman in the business attire and Midwestern accent.
and the oxytocin moon was peeking into her welcoming cleavage
while vaguely smiling.

they were nervously smoking and giggling,
while standing by the “we saw everything” doors
of the casual Irish pub,
across the Pennsylvania Hotel.

(I never thought, that the angels may look like this)

and there was an illusion of harmony.

a rare tranquility in the mid-town Manhattan
of the late summer evening.

a mantrap

a shaky kitchen table,
just another midnight trap,
was set by your evil inclination.

who will count shots, that you will pour inside?
an irritating cricket on the porch
or moon, that feasts it’s apathetic eyes
on its other side.

(sigh)

a self-cannibalistic urge to gorge oneself,
is an element of thrill.
the reflection that is frolicking on the bottom of the shot.
that will disappear, afterwards, –
another.

two hungry claws.
a mantrap, always keeps its teeth
so dreadfully sharp.

nocturnal #5

we sat,
where the night and the ocean meet.

on the pier,
listening to the song of the surf,
to the tired whispering heath on the shore.

under the illuminated skies,
disturbed by the remote thunderstorms
and by the diligent planes.

we saw a moon,
that was rising from its rest,
over the rooftops,
rolling open the moonway
to our feet.

“let’s go, the moon invited us for a tea”,
you said.
and I said “we will wet our shoes”.

I didn’t mean to upset.

ambiance

a banal scene.
a car is standing on the traffic light.

the rain is running down the windshield
leaving blurred spots of the diffracted hue of red
like the screen of the space ship
from some vintage sci-fi movie.

she said, – “I want to touch the stars”.

he took her hand in his
and kissed her fingers.

the traffic light turned green.
the car sped up and left.

the rain kept penetrating night.