Words engulf him The way he gulps his scotch One glass after another. He grabs his pen And writes down his love Pages after pages. He passes a smile at me At times when he isn't bothered About how he looks When his teeth is shown, When his hair is uncombed And she passes him by. He writes a note for her Without reading The stories I've to tell. He asks me, sometimes, As he drops his note In her old letterbox. His thick eyelashes flutter, A gulp in his throat, Drops of sweat On his forehead, He fumbles as he utters, "Have you written anything new?"
Welcome to Paraferno - this is the story of a lackadaisically frantic and whimsical dame on an oneiric infernal paradise ;-)