2 AM

real good evening 1

playing from the rooftop of his building
his sacred space
’round 2 am usually on a friday night when his demons came out to play
he escapes them by losing himself in his tenor sax

the notes clad in the dark of night floating through urban canyons
nobody knew where it was coming from
nobody cared

night time audience
with their windows flung open
with demons of their own



For OctPoWriMo

Writer’s Quote Wednesday

“The true writer, the born writer, will scribble words on scraps of litter, the back of a bus tickets, on the wall of a cell”.

David Nicholls, One Day

I can truly relate to this one. I do scribble on scraps of paper, napkins. My most ridiculous one was on tiolet paper. Now, thank goodness for technology. I do my scribbling in the memo section of my phone.



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