Black and white line my walls, and night falls unforgivably onto my window panes.
How many minutes have passed, I wonder.
For how many seconds have I breathed this burnt air, letting it swirl, twirl, and dance lazily in my lungs; a crooked waltz.
I've written of my favors and faults, and how the flavors of a better time passed still lingers on the tip of my tongue and swims around my teeth; making them chatter at the thought of life never returning to the way it was once.
A mouth made of lyric and rhyme, I've been wasting away in this city of gray and rain. The buildings scrape the sky and the air tastes of coffee and smoke.
Wind swirls around anyone who stands within the city's walls; wrapping them in it's chill.
I've been bathing in fallen rain, and wrapping myself in an incense flavored blanket for 20 years.
And this is home.
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