This poem is about nothing
It’s about dusk and urban settings
And dark figures in empty corridors
It’s about being shell-shocked to your core
It’s about seagulls on seashores
And equally dirty whores
This poem is about nothing
It’s about dusk and urban settings
I couldn’t possibly tell you more
Except that this has happened,
It has happened before
When the asphalt tore
It tore through my doors
With that awful, awful deafening roar
And I felt it in my pores
Until everything became worn
This poem is about nothing
It’s about dusk and urban settings
Nothing less, nothing more.
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