The Empty City


As you wander

through an ocean of lights,

the motorcycles sing in the neon silence.

They say they do it with mirrors.

Nothing but a haze in a purple desert.

Nothing but feathers falling from crystals

to be ground under foot as you march to the tune

of money and minutes,

an hour in a second,

a lifetime lived in a day,

any day,

every day.

Where reality is a shimmering memory,

where towers are built on lies and loopholes –

this is the place

where all the things

you think you ever wanted

live then die,

die then live –

then fade,

almost as if

they were never there at all.

© Kate Warren and Rebuild, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kate Warren and Rebuild with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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