A gang of disenchanted
Sub-urban socialites
Drunk on whiskey
Have found your headboard
Grinning in the darkness
Outside your apartment
In the sick thickness
Of that alley, they scheme
Logic locked
Neurons spiral and collide
As violent and silent as
The stars above them.
Coveting fingers graze
Artificial, yet organic
Trees, iron, and
God only knows what
They envision:
A sculpture, a shrine,
A sanctuary, a ship,
God incarnate
Whiskey logged
Limbs have never known
Speeds such as this
Bending not Breaking
Black and white concrete
Stripes blur past red signs
That bring no pause
Drunks slur and soliloquize
Your headboard passes
Them too quickly
To be acknowledged
(It is something else now)
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