The City street-lamps conspire to hide,
the cold shimmer of starlight from our eyes,
the stars we walk beneath but cannot see,
thinking only of what will never be.
The City is teeming with ice-
cream peddlers, vintage shops &
pours water warm as blood upon us
& we just shrug;
& we ignore her protestation.
The City is killing us
& we allow it to happen.
I want to burn it down to the fucking ground.
Such repeated Pyrrhic victories it took
for you to see
that the one you used to love, the words
you once could trust,
now there’s no one.
by some undeserved serendipity
a new dream emerges.
& though we’re only two mammals
who desire the warmth of the other,
we’re also so much more.
Lost in the pressure of the Simulacra,
the strange among strangers
of new buildings
weird & eerie.
Yet all the rest – or so
it seems –
of the animals in the City
are so at ease,
but to me
the fumes & traffic, tragic
neglected people forced to sleep
on the streets – “Sorry,
don’t have any change” –
& the oppressive cranes
declaring the domination
blind to the mantic fury of
history buried beneath the streets
The City disgusts me.
All Gods die a quiet death.
Only silence survives when nothing is left.
In the struggle of existence,
even the winners have to lose.
The odds are always against us,
no matter which side of the line we choose.
Martyrs mistake dreams for pretence,
but nothing exists that makes any sense:
Just pretty pictures to paint over & protect.
Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue
but you seem to have re-written,
the story of what was once you and me;
put as much distance as you can
between then &
the smiles & the all that time spent together:
eventually the touch of all those memories
& only the faintest trace
can believing a lie make it a truth?
because I believe in the lie
that you still love me too;
the heart beating beside me every night,
that heart belongs to you.
Wherever we find ourselves next,
whoever else you let into your bed,
the feeling is still in my chest.