Tuesday, July 19, 2011



The traffic crawls through another signal,
A medley of horns thaws imagination.

The dread- of having to keep it moving,
To not let go and hold on to the break, tight.

A symposium of everything that keeps it alive-
The world and whatever else there is.

Neon lights, archways of a sojourn and
Bridges that lead into junctions- all a pointless perjury.

The city pants, overgrow and made up-
Its blood cells are all almost dead.

It waits, for the impending strife,
A disaster to relieve it of this painful existence.

Somewhere, the end waits berthed,
Harboring the inevitable, relishing the prospects.

The city, it waits-
Almost breathless now.

The Light Shines The Brightest
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