These Cold spiked, metal mountains
With spires erect with the purpose of reach
The heaving, broody bowels below
Alternative notions of the beautiful in darkened spaces
Walk through the hail of driven bullets
Dodging left, stride on, weave right, stride on
The sudden jolts waking me from a lunchtime malaise
And then I Stop ...
Close my eyes. I Listen ...
This. The pulse of a majestic city
Perfectly composed; chaotic, alive
Coalescence a footnote; the beat defined
I. It's sadistic master. It's masochistic slave
Drawn to this flame; a repeat offender
Savagery lurks in it's taunting shadows
Yet always alluring ... always ... mine.