Vermouth late night chasers.

Audio is deceptively selective
low Nights of Freelance fiction
a dream kept locked away
In my box made of bone.

I walked into the room
bringing with me a cloud of smoke
a video’s delayed response.

The whirl of a mechanical
accompanists magnetic Fingers
prompting auto cue
Possible overtures from
A flowering garden.

reverberations over
Modern misuse of a ancient language
signs in the sky shortened down
like eroding truces
A Forgotten fidelity
of a conquering armada.

floodlight fears
nothing’s left to fear
Wave breakers eroding
salt stained broad walks
Vermouth late night

a circuit board swept ashore.