Along the bustling roads
And throughout town
I wander alone on the streets
Like a ghost among crowds

All around I see friends,
grouped together like families
Oh, right, I almost forgot
It’s nearly christmas eve

Look around, all the happy faces
Cheerful, excited, hopeful
Things without meaning
At least, that is to me

They walk and talk
Run and hide and laugh
Blissfully unaware
Of the monochrome sky

Twilight, now
The road empty, the town quiet
I walk along the streets
Among lost spirits and lonely shadows

Lately, my body has felt like a ghost town,
People use to intersect in my lanes,
Nobody has been coming around
And nothing is being maintained.

The old saloon is only making noise
From a ghost piano they left employed,
Destroyed are the shops and homes,
The streets bleed cracks and potholes
Where they say if you put your ear to the ground
You can hear someone around the world
Whispering a gentle "hello".

As the sun bleeds through at high noon,
Two old cowboys appear in standoff
Inside me, they tell eachother count to three.
Softly they count but both react at two,
The first puts a gun to his temple to squeeze,
The other puts a knife to his wrist to bleed.
Both have a clear intention to destroy,
Ignored in this heat, no one makes a sound
Stuck in standstill in this bodied ghost town.

In Georgia, it is 82 degrees.
Sweltering sticky heat and air so thick with humidity
It’s like you’re swimming through syrup
Weigh me down.
Sweat slips down my spine like living water, a reminder that
I am here— uncomfortable, yes, but not quite hurting.
People smile. I smile back.

In New York, it’s 39 degrees.
Wind whips at my face, rendering my cheeks rosy and stinging my eyes with tears.
My teeth chatter, rattling my whole jaw with them.
The subtle pain reminds me I’m alive.
I’m not quite sure when I decided pain and existence were synonymous
But I did
And today is another reminder.
I smile. No one smiles back.

At least they’re alive. At least I am.

Everything on my wrist is real,
            the scares from my youth

to the stitches cut out of me on the street.

         But none of you will cut me further than


                                   I fell in the past, I rose up..
  

And now my heads up high..

You'll never put this fire out, the smoke
                  smoothing you..

Getting closer to the ground so my words
             don't suffocate you.
      but my foot greets your words cos that's where
            your words had worth on the ground.

The audacity that you could even raise above,
                          to think that you ever had a cut
that was deeper than I'd self-inflicted.

I'll stand under the lamp posts in the dark,
       easy target, but I'll see you coming.

Thinking I'm alone, but I have friends in the dark.
            you never had no moment to rise,
  you got swallowed in the dark.
                    Tied to a chair, coldness held to a temple
that you never prayed to, but you wish you had now..


You walk out a new man, respecting that
             I'm the  fire and the smoke,
                            and if you want to breath
                    
                               you better **** the ground and make

sure your words stay down.
I'm in the light
                           but I have friends in the dark.
        I'm on probation but shades have different
                               pockets that I fill deep..

Know pardon my words I have things on my
                  wrist that are life lessons,
    you ain't nothing but something to burn at my bequest.

Making my way up town,
         chaves  all-round.

And single mums with multiple
                          fathers wondering
                 with pushchairs  around.

And the kids miss there dads,
               one of there
                    multiple other half's..

        but mummy doesn't let
                           them come around.

Staring blankly ahead the crack heads
          head off to the job centre to
                  collect that Jiro that'll be...

Be in there arm, and they need it,
             and they want it now.
                       But the dealer got busted
before there next round.....

And people stare and  wander if they'll be
                   pretending to be homeless,
             scrounging for those lose coins
to get there
                  next fix injected down.

Making my way up town,
                people passing me by,

So many people walking around there
   cant be this much dole dosers
                                          walking around.

I sit on a seat and watch the world
                                                pass me by.
                              And I, and I just wonder

how many kids are walking around the town
               when schools open.
Yet I see them chaving around,
     the country is doomed,
                     as I see them plodding aimlessly

                

                                               around ..


This is me making my way up town,
            and I wonder if I'll get mugged
                      by some ****** that can't get a
job cos there benefits pay more than my

                       full time job makes,

But I still need this watch,
             but I wonder if I hadn't battered the
  **** out of this ****, would I have seen tonight.

Making my up town knuckles bruised with satisfaction.

  That I made my way up town, and I know that
                          I'll smile in the crowd because ill
           be proud after my shift


that I come home to you tonight.

Clouds cover my home and keep it modest while faded red brick buildings loom over arthritic streets. People who don't know they're dead yet buy poison in crayola-bright shops as the dead cheerfully seek ****** and methamphetamine. Baleful distractions run through my town like bullets through bones, bludgeoning, piercing and slashing our slice of Americana to pieces. The clouds may cover us, but 'modesty' is a lie.

The Town breathes, you just
Need to halt and hark for a moment;
There is blood flows through its veins;
And you easily can see it; you just need
To stop for a second and see it; the town
Lives its own life whether you like it or not;
Don’t deny it; you just need to be aware of
It when your tread its paved streets next
Time; you need to understand the
Mechanism behind it; you need to
Comprehend that you are one of an
Infinite amount of particles scurrying
Around; if you just at least pretend to
Believe in it then everything will start
Peu à peu to make some sense; till Then
Once in a time cease your eternal roaming
And just listen to hear something that can
Change your life

imagine:

sitting on A stool on a stage
Small and creaky
aroma of coffee and maybe a cigar and sweet casualty in the air
imagine singing your mother’s favorite song to remember her softly
then Coming off stage
(greeted by your love poking your side so laughably irritating)
to sip a now tepid coffee, made by someone who knows your name
as you watch a neighbor go sit on the same stool
singing a song Of funny nostalgia that tickles the sides of your heart
reminding the room of our collective Age
with a chuckle and a smirk exchanged
and recounting the beautiful memories of lives lived in adjacency to one another
that makes up such a quaint Story

imagine that.

Day and night melting into each other
Like they never knew love
Or will ever know love
They waltz to the town's bustling song