cold into the streets, i found
no salvation inside last night, as
usual: the stone walls were
slick, and, through the tunnel
pack, i turned to the comfort
and disgust of suppressed life,
and decided not to climb. 'it
would be a shame to break
my neck, here', i uttered, in
the haze, to myself. clusters
of meaningless wandering thought.
before, i knew avoidance, like all
gods were lookin' down through
the world, and i could only curl and
hide my fears by inaction and the
movement of my fingertips over
nylon threads. same sad songs i
won't stop singing. think i'm the
thing drags me down, i'm the
only thing that i can't rid myself of,
and consonance comes round more,
these days, but hardly
all of 'em.
so, i spread feet under new and old
known and unknown streetlamps,
stared up at the cloud cover,
screamed at the tatters of the moon
aside stranger's houses,
shedding care.
but, all, and you, will be asleep or awake,
wherever my care's gone, and
it doesn't seem to be
here.
this city drains out of
my open arms.
