Dusk,
And the city is purple.
Maybe it’s fall;
Or spring.
But it’s some in between stage,
closer to winter than summer,
I know this because
The streetlights look like trapped snow
As white as they are,
and the only way to trap snow
Is to burden the world
with royal purple;
only seen when the world begins
To tilt away from the sun.
There is no one
Else on the street, just the buildings
Looking soft at the edges
And their windows barely visible
The sky touches their tops
with a smear of red,
God has stuck this night in between
Her lips like a napkin
And folded it over onto the top
Of my head, her lipstick is a quiet orange
Not neon, but a diluted color
The streets stretch out like they have been
Pulled,
Almost breakinig apart
At the seams just to tighten
Against the gutters.
And the titans of the sky,
The ones who take over
Are not out yet, this is the time of the gods
The time of the she-gods and the
Angry warlords of the sky,
Because only venus
And ****** Mars are out on the horizon
And there is no moon.
Wrote this a year ago. ******* incoherent **** is what it is.