The myriad of workers all shattered and broken
Complementary cityscapes remain inescapable
High tech offices, shimmering urban dystopia,
Eight hours spent well, dreams of eloping.

Twice daily gaze avoidance in a cold rolling tin
Public transport gaslight, nobodies talking
Level crossings stay shut without fair warning
Waiting at the lights while fending off wardens.

A twenty car pileup with zero casualties
Gridlock at rush hour, boredom eternally
Look out the sunroof towards the contrails
Dreams of escaping, a matter of urgency.

Overhead, the most beautiful of tapestries
Each one a trail to the temporarily free
The sun in this case, a dog for a flee
Migrate for a week and live on the beach.

The cycle goes on as you don't have the money
Yet venture capitalists adventure freely
All expenses paid, hands rub greedily
Shouting to the world 'I want you to pay me!'

Nothing pillaged nothing earned
Bear witness to the 'altruistic economy'
Climb onto haveness mezzanines
Stroll down avoidance alley.

Open your front door, the handle falls off
Take a smoke and climb up the chimney
Sit on the slate and draw the scenery
All glass houses need stone underneath.

You say you won't cry
(and you know I know why),
But you will.
When memory reminds you
Of our life and thrills,
Our talks of love
In the park on the hill.
Our fear for our children,
Our love for each one,
Our love for each other
Before our love was gone.
You say you won't cry,
But you know you will.

Artificial city-dwellers
Discard all humanity
Carbon fired tin cans
Pierce the serenity.

Anonymous collisions
Fifty floors below
Each passer by a stranger
You will never know.

Pedestrians, travellers
And their vehicles
Droplets in a river,
Altering the tidal flow.

Irrigation passages
Absorb the elements
Hedge fund panellists,
Bankers and workers flee.

Eye rolling baby boomers
Sit, tutting one by one.
Nervous millennials adorned
In clothes for moths to eat.

Breaking point carriages
Century old tunnelling
A lone foot tapping
And quiet page turning.

Brakes hit the track
Piercing the murmur
Eighty jarred necks
External motion blur.

Sliding carriage doors
A not-so-subtle beep
Dust kicked from dawn
Falls onto the city streets.

Blue tower inhabitants
Busting out of the seams
Water molecules collide
But nothing sinks the fleet.

Smartly suited eye-darters
Push and pull for space
Rolling up the banks
Humanity erased again.

I settle on the brickwork
Until the storm retreats
Circadian commuters
Run to rest their feet.

A few lonely meanders remain
Wondering down the beach
Forlorn festivies fog over
Swinging shop-signs squeak.  

As the lighting rig descends
And once blue ceiling stains
The beige brickwork turns red
The high tide admits defeat.

Pink light turns to navy blue
A faint moonbeam lights the sky
Obscured by one cloud then a few
Vague incandescence frames the scene.

The streetlights flicker overhead
One worn out passenger now leaves
Shrouded, cold, hungry and fulfilled;
Abandonment for some is peace.

Her body only existed where he touched her.
Twisting and writhing to his hands upon her flesh.
The rest of her evaporated into smoke.
             Dispersing into the nights air from a masterstroke