I found myself walking through tea stained sunsets,
Among the less extraordinary,
Through the puddles and shadows of sky scrapers,
And feeling bare.
As if I lay all I had to the world,
As if i were a car boot sale,
And my stock was used up and never replenished.
As if i were tea that was brewed too long
And became too bitter for public consumption.
Thrown
Down the drain
And through the rivers that run beneath the streets.
I found myself with a belly gorged on a litre of reused ideas,
Watching a sped up time lapse shot of the traffic by night on the Spaghetti Junction,
Losing and changing focus,
The silent hum of a city heaving.
As if I’d never seen the city,
As if I’d never lived and breathed it’d dreams,
As if my lungs weren’t full of it’s potential,
As if each time you travel through its kaleidoscope it doesn’t feel like the first time.
And everything that was or could have been was possible in this space,
One million heart beats in union,
Proletariat minds and gold lined pockets.
I found myself on a train to God knows where,
45 minutes of travel and a bagel later,
The other end of the world emerged from underneath a railway bridge,
In the watercoloured city,
The streets that made me,
Industry born and silk bred,
And street lights are at the ends of tunnels guide me,
Home.
