The Blade Over the Tape

"THE BLADE OVER THE TAPE" as the breeze dances on my face, the smoke from my cigarette finds love in the sky. as the breeze dances on my face, Gould plays the Goldberg Variations. as the breeze dances on my face, Bukowski's words find home in my blood. as the breeze dances on my face, this coffee burns my tongue. as the breeze dances on my face, my tears, my heartache, the death of my soul, seem nonexistent. as the breeze dances on my face, the cigarette has burnt out, Gould's piano is silent, Bukowski's poetry is done and the coffee has gotten cold. my heartache, my tears, the death of my soul is back. reality. the fight against the darkness has been glorious. the fight I fight, still is. By: Chicano Eddie 9-16-2016