the city is a zombie
among the living dead
graffiti stains of strangers’ souls
in blue and black and red
the velvet night is sleepless
and yet I try to dream
drawing pictures in my mind
of flowers that run green
silver seas of flying fish
angels at a cost
and staring at the ceiling
i know that i am lost
and so i rise at midnight
to greet the witching sun
open the creaking, peeling door
hit the sidewalk just to run
feet slapping the pavement city blocks
my ears begin to pound
feeling the pulse of the city
but deaf and dumb to sound
straining my eyes up at the skyscrapers
brushing the edge of the world
to think of the silver trees of Paris
each so primped and so curled
dreams of the future used to linger
a soft and welcomed fate
but now i long for forests
behind this iron gate
hope subsumed into fire
treacherous love for ourselves
we live in concrete jungles now
in little boxes upon boxes upon shelves