Bright lights,
Big city.
Meandering streets with faceless entities.
Finding familiarities in nothingness niceties.
Yellow raincoat,
Puddle soaked feet.
Puddles for lakes,
Alleys for express streets.
Dilapidated creativity on graffiti-laden stone walls
Or lesser gods at life’s call
Frayed toothless smiles,
Grease smeared passersby.
Disguised charades,
Or victims of the urban epidemic.
Shredded being,
Patches and threads that hold the cover.
Clinging onto soul piercing shards of shame.
Distraught pleasure in metal crushers heave down car graveyards
Doomsday?
Naah!
Just a pit stop.
For evolutionary transformation,
Reduced to shapeless iron,
Looking to be crafted into an object of desire.
Deliver the earths ye potter,
The iron ye blacksmiths,
The souls ye poets
Dazed mind, hazy vision,
Warm blood trickling temple to chin,
Losing ground.
Natures pain of labour,
For darling creativity.
Churning stomach,
Craving for just once more.
Gashed its arms to lend the world its beauty.
Ah! The high of creation,
Make believe or believable?
Flickering misery, flinching hope,
Fallen.
Blackened nails, infested wounds.
Crooked wry happiness,
Rats gnawing into skin.
Stench of inconsequential
Calling the bright lights in the big city.
Fallen
