deepundergroundpoetry.com
Like the sun
Like the sun,
your precious,
there isn't no sand,
there is no sea.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet.
Lamp posts,
they are my palm trees,
an artificial orange buzz,
gives me the warmth to feel free.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet,
I imagine the sea,
lapping and corroding away these streets.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet.
The man on the corner,
knows how to pull in the tide,
with a handful of nothing,
I feel its another day in paradise.
your precious,
there isn't no sand,
there is no sea.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet.
Lamp posts,
they are my palm trees,
an artificial orange buzz,
gives me the warmth to feel free.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet,
I imagine the sea,
lapping and corroding away these streets.
The cove of a concrete surf,
blisters, and stubs my feet.
The man on the corner,
knows how to pull in the tide,
with a handful of nothing,
I feel its another day in paradise.
Published 10th Dec 2015
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