Relent
A poem
The veins of the city
a hundred thousand graves
a million closed doors
Pandora’s box hidden
beyond the forbidden lock.
Reach out for support again
but they have nothing to offer,
their safety bubble popped
so long ago.
They close their doors, too,
and leave you fighting with the elements
the cold set upon the anxious, sweating brow
the tired body worn down that little bit more.
Neon lights flash vivid shadows like
oil spills across the pavements
the hospital nearby holds infinite ghosts,
the bodies still emerging
the promise of change revealed to be a smokescreen —
lost the last of the pills —
the promise of life turned out to be deception
lost at the wake, detached,
sitting alone in the reception
my tie loose, now, swaying by my waist
music blasts from a passing car
an infectious disease, their Hyena-like laughter