Stars fade to nothing
then orange - a fog in the distance.
Darkness here is not blackness.
There are no pinpricks,
no windows or beacons of hope
to rely on. Just the glow
of street lamps in their millions.
A well organised army
frozen in time.
Cat's eyes and headlights,
neon street signs and the tick
of a old iron clock. This city sleeps
yet there is no night time—
just a honey glazed haze
the fluorescent glare of two million insomniacs.