II.

 

Before, daylight urges affix to our vehement souls

And the bright white lights fluorescent overhead

Draw slender figures upon the concrete

While effervescent vagaries liquefy somewhere

Deep below the roots of consciousness

And perched saintly atop a shelf or counter

There lies this poison; this demon in a bottle

Who belts, shouts into the empty building

While the mindless drones are lulled into a drowsy, vacant

Corridor of ebullient sadness,

Knowing not where they had come from

Only concerned with where they, that night,

Will end up – up – in smoke, experience

Becomes memory: memories then wilt rot

Decompose like bodies in the sultriness of the Carolinas

As time elongates toward decades as a result

Of some diminutive years: monstrous days

Soaked in gin and holy water

With ragged cloth for clothing, sleeping on couches

In houses far from home

Which live on sad streets with long-faced fellows

Drinking the last of the midnight oil

Waiting for the rain, or maybe an answer

From god that simply will never come,

Some restless spirits, blue orbs of light

Penetrate through the abyss of darkness

While hipsters, junkies & luckless lovers

Dance in the fragility of a summer dawn

After thousands of two a.m. rambles, intellectual stumbling

And fumbling with cardboard boxes

On consistently crass shelves containing

Over-the-counter remedies for small maladies

As a perilous crew loiters outside a corporation which

Runs a country while beggars beg,

And women must please while the poor steal,

Reaching from under the thumbs of Society,

As privileged forever teens sneak off

With capsules and capsules of lean

Itching for one last escape from harsh realities;

Timidly waiting on something, everything

To move or change immensely.

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