The Night Off.

I took the night off,

for a while I allowed myself to hear words

but not concentrate

on watching the eyes,

the soul man, I stayed

away from the soul and

I took pleasure in staying out

of the emotions;

even my own words

were perhaps delivered without the same

fire and brimstone longing,

the same damnation in my spit and looking across

to see the Devil judging,

mocking my every words, his tail

poking out from underneath the table

and chairs and balancing a single shot

of ten year old scotch,

cheap stuff, more vapour than release,

more damp rag and paraffin

than electricity to the heart,

this is a night off remember,

the Devil in the detail

has by passed me

and I begin to fall asleep,

to feel drowsy, not on alert, the Devil

has no hold tonight, I have no need

to be a scribe or understand the feelings of words,

tonight the music is just excellent,

it swims around in my head

like chocolate milkshake sucked

too quickly, delicious and pounding,

the small of the fingers pressed gently

against my temples…

I hear the words and I revel playfully against them,

beautiful sounds,

a dancing angel in the corner

who has spent the day with me as my guardian

and my love, now strips down to her underwear

and beckons me to sleep,

hopefully with her,

or at least sleep and feel the black and white

memories turn sepia and golden;

a night off, rare and relaxed,

today it is back to always being on alert

and observing, my eyes yesterday closed,

today they remain firmly exposed.


Ian D. Hall 2017