deepundergroundpoetry.com

Nightlife

The concrete jungle
dead in itself
harbours life
Cells flood through the veins of artificial day
Bleeding life into the blackless night

A murmur in the heart
is a biological storm brewing
Lightning strikes in low places
sparking countless flights of fluorescent fancy
Hear the thunder underground
as rhythmic footfalls born from bitter drinks

In packs and in pairs
or as solitary souls
they roam
Predator and prey the same
Trapped in a cage of their own creation

Free from freedom
but unaware
They embrace the storm,
stalk the steel savannah
and live towards their deaths
Slaves to the city