Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Midnight rain,
On glass and black frame,
Gaslight fills
The wet streets
With an amber glow.
Dark hooves clatter
Across wet cobblestones,
Before falling silent
Outside
The doors of Nocturna.
In a small room
Above the club,
Ridley Slocum
Awaits.
His razors
Lie in perfect order.
Your silver face shimmers in my eyes,
The touch of your cold metal buttons is electric,
You’re uncovered, a needle is revealed, and my senses heighten,
My fingers dance across narrow spines, as I make my selection,
I first remove the sleeve, then the coal black circle,
Gently set down, the ritual is almost complete,
Of all the needle tracks, I choose the first one,
With one movement of your arm, the world spins,
A sweet sound fills the air and nourishes my mind,
I see green lights, orange lights, and golden-lit gauges,
As the black circle spins, I’m filled with powerful memories,
You are a portal, my time machine, my hi-fi,
You are my beloved silver Akai.
