After Dark

You have been here before. In the shadows.
There’s a monk in the corner he’s singing syllables to language professors. A three storie tall tuxedo’s playing music backwards to retards, snails on the horny pill drawing fluorescent lines in the grass

Every tree dancing ancient footsteps touching roots

I feel you over there, can you hear me? Im up in the ssycamore tree

Beatboxing pigeons and foxes high on leftovers from the wrong tenants rave in the pond as chicks on speed pedals endlessly cycle the Marble Arch

Can you hear that drippity drop? Its for you. Calling. For your loss of control. You are walking now. On thin air. No need for reassurance here. Its After Dark and the city is alive with fire from street lights and over exposed traffic

Freedom fighters hide in the dark. Inspiration is having a jog and you can no longer smell the smog

School girls have left their confinement and burn panties and bras in that shining white pile on the meadows, brats their long lost ambition
and Im here cause I need to tatoo someone’s ass with: “The invicibility of punk”

The hits that’s been on the radio like you’ve heard a million times before
are randomly interjecting the silence, somewhere in the distance

You’re not wanted to serve another cup at Starbuck

I can see a storm cloud coming, the insult of another day is at hand.
But Im not to worried never am. I am not a worried man

I am a Sky God and this, baby, is our time.