and i flow...

And then who should walk in through the door… but the man. The man himself. The cigarette out the window, it lights the sky while the red ember rains upon me… and we pray… I fold my hands only to crack my knuckles, and then throw the thought away. The crack. Where is the dream I thought I was dreaming… rainforest dewdrops on my ragged jeans… and her sweet stale breath through the wafting coffee… strains of last night’s song… the god we thought existed… thought. Taut. Tight. And I hold on… sieve me through the strains and I will become complete… wires, glass and pumice… and will she find her way… the green streets lit with gold… and I flow…