When the light has dispersed
And migrated
To another crack in existence; somewhere
Shut off from those
Who are so acutely delirious, a place
Where you can mingle with docile smiles
And weary half-shut pupils.

Somewhere shrouded in half-cut peace
And dwindling creases in bone-white cheeks.

When the light
Has found this place
I shall roam the foreign streets, ducking
My way through the brick retreats
And sleeping bodies, squeezing
Through huddles of gristly hands
That sit upon embers and
Empty stomachs.

I shall
Ignore all this and rather
Look upon the sides of buildings
Where pictures can linger
Of children grasping red balloons
Or of men washing up teaspoons, my
Eyes are welcomed by these sights
For they are dull
But so very kind.

And, when I am asked
Why I stand, waiting, on the curb
I shall say,

“I am Lucifer, fallen
From the edge of envy, shut
Out from the pearl clouds and
Tasked to seek a time weathered  
Question”.

I do not think
They shall believe me
When I try to tell them
And I do not think
They shall understand.

And so,
The brick and concrete
Will do, it is where
I have made my bed,
I shall lay
Wings clipped and
Smile cracked, hands dipped
In the gutter, and I natter
And I mutter -
These words that I muster
And create
Take the form
Of a twin-headed snake
And they snigger and
They slither, intertwined
And brittle
They pass on thinner
Than before.