Ladders and highs
And purples and crazies
Burning under the stars
Looking through the uneven stairs
Passing through open walls and
Broken windows
Hallowed and cut bleeding through
The darkened streets
Glowing into their skin
Death as a form of retreat
From their civilian madness
Holing into sewers and breathing waste
Hurting themselves on barbwire fences and needles
Digging holes into flesh and filling with temporary satiety
For those sleeping in alleys high and immobile
Choirs of  phantoms and squirrels and birds
Greet with unremarkable pitch
Verse says the end has come
But is just unfolding