with the slice of a
razor's edge through
the windpipe of a
city, we gasp and
are soon dizzied by
our self destruction;

the ceaseless days
will suffocate without
the cold release
so perilously balanced
upon that steel blade
and yet
we hold out for
some alternative that
perhaps we could
reflect upon the day
as a mirror to simulate
the night, the sun's glare
deflected to another plane
so maybe
i could get some sleep
and stop dreaming-
and with my one last gasp
inhale the evening.

11/06/2005

Posted on 11/06/2005
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams