Talking slow blues to the edge of the night
Echoing trains long run out of sight…
I am a man without mirrors; no reflection catches me.
When I look in the eyes of my lovers, I see only them.
Shadows and vampires are my friends…
I live in the shadows of their lives, and purloin
Existence from vacant dreams.
This night strokes memories from shadows
Creating images, ideals;
“Either I have visited this place,
Or dreamed that I have.”