H-poem

A pink and yellow twilight is splattered like paint on the street.
As the sun in the sky sets down,
An unblinking eye washing itself in wispy opaque clouds.

A jagged line of eyelashes creates a steel horizon,
As I peer up at the metal behemoths in the distance, standing
In resolute indignation, climb headfirst into the atmosphere.

They stretch back to me. Looming. Casting long pools of ink
Over street curbs. Over store displays. Up to the windows
That televise people living their tiny lives in a box of

Peeling wallpaper. I walk between the gaps of reality
And the dark abysses worming from the bottom of the skyscrapers.
Street lights are waiting to flicker on. Ready to burst like swelling

Sacs of bombs. This glistening street view is being swallowed by a lowering
Ceiling made of tar. Oozing. Slithering over the light to leech like a parasite.
The air thickens like ice and suddenly my lungs are two carcasses in a

Butcher’s freezer. A breeze like nails erupts into my face.
Mannequins in casual autumn dress mechanically shift by
Across the pavement. Huddling their plastic arms together for a warmth

That they will never feel. Two shimmering goblins down the street
Mock the closing eye in the sky, and a car drives passed me.
The streetlights explode. All simultaneously in one fluid dance step.

Neon polygons in the windows flash and the shining streaks rush into
My eyes like the mainlining of a syringe in someone’s bulging vein.
This scene that I see.

Do you see it?