tapping on the glass, i know the city can
hear me from within, for although envious bones cage
my heart and sorry flesh bares these scars,
i know the city can hear me.
patterns in city life mirror our own as houses and
motorways echo pill boxes and
corporations decorate our landscape like
jagged te
eeth.
ready to feast
on
our open
chests.
leeches live here sponging off what the city
can't seem to think of and
draining the past like oxygen.
together, no one can be blamed for
bland music and traintrack basslines.
i cannot separate myself from this, there is
no division as fast as i try to run
we devour the city as the city devours us, and
another sleepless night is all i can take, when belief
slowly turns to nausea and
regret is that one belt buckled too tight.
no one is really bothered to step out of the bubble
because that would mean breathing a different air.
the city can hear everything but even so,
we take our tabs and
drown in numbers.
