Midnight Doodles

A collection of Poetry, some of it probably sounds better as spoken word, and I might do a few as spoken word, but, for now, poetry.


3. sins of the city people.

there are lights,

so bright they dance among the stars above,

gleaming just before the horizon line,

when i glare into the dark.

there are sounds,

of laughing, cars and life among the trees,

that ignites the glowing night,

when i lie awake.

there are people,

so many and so few,

crowded into tight corners and spread out in space,

hunger and lust licks them into existence,

as night descends upon a city made of dreams.

they starve for intimacy and the cold breeze of dusk air,

the heat of crowded rooms filled with alcohol and dancing,

people pushing up against each other, laughing,

and the sounds of traffic stopping as quiet encapsulated them,

the loneliness and fear of another dark street with flickering lights,

all people come to the city of dreams.

there are angels made of glowing lights,

dimming the stars and shining so brightly just above,

their glittering existence so fleeting,

their light only dances when night awakes the city of dreams.

life is toxic and overflowing with impulsivity,

the smell of garbage, sex and booze has lingered for many days,

and the sky,

 grey in mourning is splashed with electric colour.

it opens up revealing its many secrets in droplets of water.

in the city of dreams, the rain whispers as you stagger home,

dawn breaking through the cloud cover.

death taints the breath of the city of dreams.

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