New York Streets and Skies

[gentlmenardying]

My thoughts are metropolitan
one entire whole
of lonely mass transit
back,
to forth
always pictured ideally at night.

lights on
lights out.

eyes blink
feelings sink.

tonight
we're over-bored with our thinking patterns
grid-locked
into city cages.
to them,
were simple prey.

but writing is cataclysmic
words are passive game
that is natural for me to play.
catalytic in cessation
of reason
catastrophic in the eyes
of the assassin
wielding flame.

Enlightenment is Apocalypse
to the closed eye
Illumination can bring such
blinding illusion
have your eyes deceived you darling?

waking naked in the seething dawn
day dreaming of the peaceful nights
when the day light is not brighter
than tomorrow
and there is
was
still hope

there is.
when you still have enough faith
to look to the stars
and look yourself
in the eye
moonshined to no end
a horizon in earshot;

eye distanced away
from you.

on top that roof
that was always under the sunset
but above the sunrise,
we all laid there
in each others arms
looking for the middle way
between
New York Streets and Skies.

-Craig