City.

you’ll always be alone

in the city;

gone,

the final breath

in the icy mouths

the secret of a lover,

in the absence of morning

and the affinity of dark at night;

a fucked up dream

stares left in its presence

in the old city lights,

warmer than the protestation

that rebels against animal bones

for different gods, this sacrifice,

in the brutality that begs our need,

denied and dead,

forgotten past our time;

susurration in the white magnolia 

silence—pixelated 

to surrender in derangement,

for we are only flesh and bone

& thought & sleep,

we are poison

deformed ghosts

at the grey hour of 3:00 am

as the blinds blow hollowly 

from the air vent,

the moment that keeps 

me from sleeping

there is silence 

and sometimes, it is endless,

and sometimes, it is a fucking eternity

in a world hunted with regions

of blood lust, and shallow eyes

that illuminate in the cigarette light

in the evening. 

Surrounded in the morning light

it is the same day but a different one

it is the same fucking day

a ritual of compulsion,

fleeting in thoughts each day,

fallen silent 

like the leaf,


susurration,

you’ll always be alone.

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14 thoughts on “City.

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