Brooklyn Lullabies.
The sirens of the night conduct the city.
Hurried swish of tires
Deep roar of engines
Soft echoes of distant horns.
The constant intertwined sound
The never-ending rhythm of noise.
It’s the calmest lullaby I’ve ever been sung to.
Is Anyone Left?
Lying in a field of naked stems,
One petal is left hanging on the last dying flower.
Me too, said the hopeless romantic.
Unspoken.
No one is here
No one is looking
Come alive
Or come undone
Between the shadows
Subject to the dark
The ugly
The raw
Don’t leave any litter
Or your secret is exposed.
I’m Not You.
In my ear they whisper
Follow my rules
Be with the sheep
But I don’t whimper
I don’t comply
I yell
I am the blackest of sheep.