City hum swells and
builds like character
development in my un-
finished
novel, typewriter pages
caged in attic
boxes, an upstairs miniature
mortuary, a
tomb
for
ambition
Cravings sow
seeds
of disappointment, planted
in the
white
noise of traffic
below
Affix myself to
brothels of white
boys
Show and tell, polite,
void,
decent and slight, moons
only deployed
by
sunlight, frightened
toys, just
ants from a skyline
perch, metal grinding and
distorted sirens are the
merchandise most
bought
not
first
Inorganic static, reminder
of the efficiency of
compression and
loss-less ascension.
Leave a Reply