Under A Cobalt Colored Sky
Backed against crimson colored brick.
These city lights are blinding, not aiding while I falter—
Ironically, so inebriated
I’m probably just as lit.
Staggering through these vile streets.
Focused on the fact I’m a modern day nomad—
failing to fit in with the fakes, freaks, addicts, morally guided or the elites.
Too many nights I find myself here.
Damning the has beens, what ifs, stockings torn, heels in hands—
alone, wishing to trade the urge for risk, in for fears.
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