there is a city in each of us
filled with people, thoughts, memories
littered with scars and bastard stories
there is a city
in each of us
some cities are vast and some microscopic
some carrying infinities, some hung on a stick
sans atmosphere or enveloped in clouds so thick
that you're not even sure if something's there
(I've been writing this poem for three days now)
I wish I were able to
get lost in a city
with no map
or inner direction
to guide me
maybe everyone is lost
and they just fake knowing their way
if you don't know where you're going
can you even get lost?
no stars to guide the land ships
just a black and empty night
fireflies pierce the gloom with light
and that, my friend, is a lovely sight
--
I broke the flow of this poem. I did. My fault for keeping it marinating it for three days.
