Apartments of windows,
complexes of complexes, opportunities saunter by as the ghosts of interpretation breathe
Barely alive, barely affecting the colors shown through from the walls behind
Swallowed and engulfed, the hands, the hands communicate an urgency
A spark from these city walls and the whole place would go down, still cleaning up after itself, but down just the same
The only common bonds left are the ones that travel silently by train
Dormant and stuffed in our ears, friendships now replaced by common decency
So this is posturing... in this light we all look a little anxious, and lonely like carnivores
If only a gun were pulled, that might divert some of the attention away
We all sleep awkward with our bodies.
Our shoulders, should-haves and wide eyes in to the haze, the truth is so evident
Breath falling off the tails of cigarette smoke into conversations and smokescreens...
