When you paint your walls
with nonsense, and the sky outside
reflects your feelings, sensations
tiring, discovering floors and no ceilings.

And the faceless poor man
doesn't want your tips
but your hand, he wants to try
standing, because he's tired of kneeling.

When you insure the beggar's
confidence with a dime, hoping
he will ask you to stay awhile, then
you see he's not the freak, you are.

It is your mind that is on trial,
the beggarman dying, you slowly
take up his cup, and begin the eternal
begging for just one single smile.

It's the big cities that fascinate me
But then ruins are the sights to see
The dark lit corners
With broken shards of mourners
Loud car horns
Who bite at your feet with thorns
Bursting with their party voices
Made of rich history and choices
Small talk on the engines
Stories poking you like pins
Of running traffic lights
With power at the peak of heights
Something like a aurora borealis
They speak of this
A city of lights and wonders
Shaking from the roar of thunder
Twinkling like stars on the ground
The whispers can be heard from the ashes that lay around.