Die Writing

Heart as black as mine

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on November 27, 2012

Aside
The first time I heard Melody Gardot’s Your heart is as black as night, I thought the title was Your heart is as black as mine. It had probably been a couple of months before I realized my mistake (the song is quite popular among the juke box blues dancers, so I have heard it many times). I thought I’d try rewriting the lyrics to fit my misheard title.

Swish

Your eyes are alight,
And I’m dressed in white,
But your heart
Is as black as mine.

Our words flow like wine,
Holy songs of a shrine,
But your heart
Is as black as mine.

I don’t know why I felt so safe
In your angelic eyes,
But if I let you hang around
We’re bound for the flames.

‘Cause your blade may be sharp,
But my poison is quick.
Your heart is as black,
As mine.

I don’t know why I felt so safe
In your angelic eyes,
But if I let you hang around
We’re bound for the flames.

‘Cause your blade may be sharp,
But my poison is quick.
Your heart is as black,
Your heart is as black,
Oh, your heart is as black as mine.

On the metro, #2.1

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on November 21, 2012

It’s a long ride on the train from the suburbs to downtown, about forty-five minutes. It’s a mostly empty train in the early evening. The museum-going family crowd has already gone home, and the bar-going scene crowd hasn’t finished doing its hair yet. I stepped onto the train from a balmy and mellow sundown, an early arrival for a busy evening.

The woman in a green dress stepped into the car about half-way through the trip. She was tall, powerful, with a body so striking and sharp, she looked as if she were carved from wrought wood. The slightly wet sheer fabric of her dress clung to her. The barely dry dark blonde curls hung close to her neck. It’s easy to imagine that she just barely left a swimming practice, and is now on her way to a formal engagement in the city, balancing an existence of a a committed athlete and a sophisticated socialite. She stepped off the train a few stations later.

I arrived at my destination, climbed the escalator to street level. A massive downpour was coming down on the city.

Dance with a bottle

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on November 21, 2012

Aside
Haven’t written much here, but have been working on a series of short stories. I suppose all this meandering on here actually paid off :D.
Swagger
He is sweltering in the layers of his clothing – a thick frock, a woolen waistcoat, a stained shirt, a worn cravat, a moth-battered bowler carelessly kicked back – from the heat of the packed hall and the many pints of wine. The sweat streaming down his face glistens through the stubble of a few days and the thinning hair. The stocky frame never ceases to bounce and prance, jovially slightly off beat. The wine is on his fat lips puckered in a grin so wide it threatens to wrap completely around his head. The wine is in his eyes, sunk into the ballooning red cheeks, permanently enthralled by the parade of blurry lights and shapes zooming by.