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.
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.