Rahfair

The jazz had a greasiness to it that made it all the smoother. The notes slithered out arrogantly, there was an oiliness in the music that made it swirl with colour. It collected at tables, on ashtrays, around glasses. The place was rank with it. There was no breeze, the only things moving around the room were dejection and desperation, and the dirty haired, smudged barmaid with jejune eyes. She stepped over puddles of music, shuffling from shadow to shadow, she served you bitter coffee. Black and bitter. Just like the eyes of the hunched figure in the corner of the room. Eyes that were closed, so that the only place his soul could escape fro

A funny mistake dizzy dizzy dizz, awhizz wo wha and bim.you clutch your ears at the dinn. But with pink blobs edging the sky,outlining a hopefull grey which makes for a brittle beam of light that makes the motes danse. Whirl, weee tempting to he, ..but.... resistance.. .can be.... made.. and you frolic in your misery for you are laying some dirt on she. Haw sad,for it was the pink dress you ruined too it leeks blue in this light, and the motes continue their spree the large horse next door is looking through the window,hes stopped chewing and there is a moment where the curtains ripples in the wind, hiding you from his me