Wide awake eyes like hospital doors fixed on flashing red traffic light stops.
The last road is closed, under infinite destructive construction.
Sneaking around town seeking a taste of chemical happiness
To fill the void with lovely lies.
The dam is cracked, the bridge is sinking,
The floods are coming back this year
To soak the City with regrets for its abuses lies,
And the massive quiet scars it drew like a fencing champion with a rapier.
Some days are like knife wounds & strychnine.
A couple of days are laughter, sun & smiles.
Most days are the same.
Maybe I can’t read them.
They bleed together like the trauma unit in a war hospital.
I admit, I was the one that stuck the knife in
To replace grey eternity with shifting shades of red.