on the 9

i wrote it.. on the number 9 bus... get it?

it seems as if this whole city is crying

dark and abandoned
inside and outside

devoid of meaning
buildings and tags;
faces and lives

lost on wheels
lost in bibles

drowning and abandoned

the concrete plans of millionaires
call forth death

solitary poet
depressed and self-righteous

churches with broken stained glass
hospitals
all scream death

gray construction
mimics faces, which imitate lives

windows only give dark companionship
and no solace

like our slow death
in this dead city