- NaPoWriMo # 15

The devil that died in his blue jeans

sings steeped in the drunkenness of the sun.

There’s a blue jean in his song,

a white horse, and a red heart

tattooed on his chest.

Despite the green fog on his lips

and the cold gray in his eyes

his voice corrodes the distance that lies between

thirst and the hand looking for the glass.

He sings.