Cold universe in a cup of instant coffee.
Echo of dreams unsaid.
A pigeon hobbles on a war-torn balcony,
Its shadow fat like a deluded man,
While smoke winds through the cracks of the ordinary.
Dusty bookshelves lined with forgotten ambitions,
A mute radio singing the blues.
Rusty swings creak at dawn,
Nobody watches them sway.
Don’t settle for the alley cat’s life,
Chasing ghost mice,
Feigning contentment in a thieving dance.
Step into the impossible daylight,
Where the air smells of electric storms,
And the ground quivers beneath
Old impossible wants.