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.