'Menteng' Under the February Rain

I want to paint the crying clouds of your dreary streets;
Motted black and orange swimming in the dark alleyways and roads.
Pitter patter ascends to disastrous white noise,
irritating the most Zen of these
pseudo-intellectuals that linger with the stink of cigarettes and expensive coffees.

Thick, rimmed, glasses caked with mud and water droplets fall silently,
While the mouth screams, complains, incompetence and discontent, unmoving.
Feet plastered to the soles of expensive faux leather shoes
And heart clenching at a thousand unnecessary, pointless causes.
A sad tone and a sadder colour.
The wind is damp, wet, cold
Disgusting and bleak
Yet despite the poison adhered to the very bricked walls
and the very grey pavement and asphalt and fake wooden décor,
I stick my tongue out to take what you can offer.