Member-only story
inside the lines of a thousand poems, you will find tales of every ghetto, every city, blooming flowers in the cracks of concrete jungles
smoke signals dissipating through the air of brick cities, ordinary people playing house like Lego, building pieces of a life just to be knocked down again when things don’t quite fit the landscape of their corner of the world anymore
no pity, a sea of souls, strangers in familiar spaces, blank faces, so many tongues too often wielded as weapons of mass destruction, housed in mouths full of blood that spit out their used razor blades at the close of each day
wrong tracks, parallel roads, West side — East side, the story goes, two halves of the same Sun, drunken fights, drunken love, teenage dreams like runaway trains, living out the best of their days
the beauty constructs in played out magazines, squeezed limbs in skinny jeans, utopias breaths are stifled, but dystopia rolls soulless eyes and sighs as it carries on becoming
we dance a bittersweet symphony before we die, all eyes are opened wide, watching fires that burn us alive, we watch the stars collide, inside this Universe — made from remnants of stardust of you and I
