street lamps pierce the night
with a laser-like precision
while vermin gnaw at the night
and gargoyles choke on rain
on streets
haphazardly stitched together
with cobblestones and shadows
yet our collective dreams
fallen by the wayside
floating sullen
on the whispers of the dead
tell their incestious story
on the banks of the deep trenches
of our dejected history
but the dark currents of our sanity
in their own shallow grave
forget nothing of themselves
while we hear nothing
and we see nothing
we say nothing
No comments:
Post a Comment