Buck Up Buttercup

 

The night calls

Like a 2 dollar w***e

Sucking off her last cigarette

 

We sit scorched by the lights

Drunk on self-loathing

And angst-ridden blues

 

The rivers of concrete carry us

The taxi cabs our ferrymen

Searching for some coins

Just enough to get us home

 

The lights swirl

Like a Pollack painting

Across our window

Across our souls

They pierce us from within

 

This life ain’t so bad

We have each other, if

We have ourselves

We have the night like a foster parent

So willing to take us in,

To push us out

 

Regurgitated remains

For our inner harbor

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Sweet!

[_mal]

Very interesting, arresting. Some great imagery here and a feeling I can't put my finger on