The sloppy rain slips and slides down the fogged-up windows,
and this lets me know that I am not as small as I think I am.
In a city of three million plus, I feel like the soul of a nation,
even though I'm just a twenty-one year-old piece of plastic, drinking a hipster beer.

The waitress has frizzy hair and oily skin.
She's holding in late-night infomercials and missed ballet recitals, behind her words.
She looks at my luggage and asks where I came from or where I'm going,
and I tell her that the fun thing is that I have no idea where I'm going --
and that I still haven't decided where I've came from.

This city allows new-found anonymity, and I want that to be my cause.
With each passing glance, I know they don't see me, and, to me, that's the slumber-kissed throat-slit I've always dreamt of...

...the streets play music that I only hear -- and I know that's not fair, but I don't care.

And the homeless represent the bowels of the city.
And the businessmen are the ghost-filled engine.
And the middle class is the defense-mechanism I always wanted for Christmas.
And I am the empty delusion, desperately seeking a new pollution.

A silent night, disturbed by your feverish search for something unknown.
You reached for me, holding the silver marker in your hand and drew me close.

You began to draw upon my ebony skin, the ever darkness a wonderful contrast to the silver at hand.

You flicked your wrists here and there till you art was complete, creating a sea of stars on ever inch of my chocolate being, I was the universe. In that single moment I was everything that was needed to even exist and that was when you whispered " I cannot breathe without you."

You know, I drank myself in for a while
All deceit and sorrow
Bitter taste it was
Or shall I say I was
Yet I smiled and glugged on
I licked my teeth, pretending to savour my juices
But I was dying inside

the world only commits to one word
when no explination can show
the answer or
when not even bandaids
can clean up a mess
when the only things we have left may not hold off for long
the dust suffocating our throats and blinding our eyes
trying to reassure safety
to stop the fists from raising
and the children from crying for their parents
our minds being sliced away from
intelligence
from lies
with the knives of each other
maybe
maybe it is all just a dream that we won't wake up from
but maybe
this is reality
maybe they'll agree if i try
try
try
maybe
it wasn't meant to be
the word fills our mouths with the bitterness of what might happen if we say yes or no
maybe if we don't decide
it will all go away
maybe the answer isn't meant to be known
maybe they'll understand
maybe
maybe we'll understand that not answering isn't the answer to a problem
might
may
the only ones who use them are the ones who can't decide themselves
confused
wondering
waiting
for someone else
because
maybe they'll know how to fix this

maybe.