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Cartwheel down the road,
My senorita smiles, and I’m weightless.
A utopian charade,
We both know it’s hopeless.

Trapped by cold suburbia,
The sensibilities I lack.
And when I leave her,
We both know I won’t be back.

The city simmers silently,
The streets devoid of cars,
Blanketed in sodium,
Which substitutes for stars

The light of lost souls lingers on,
Reminds us who we are,
Their hope, distilled, still glimmers on,
Like glow-worms in a jar.

LED’s blink stories at me,
They lull me with monotony.
And I drift into apathy,
Embrace my anonymity.

The fragile fuzz of neon flickers,
Frames me like a post-it sticker.
The skin of passers by fluoresces,
As they search for incandescence.




I See Stars


The Day He Died

Time Alone

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