Brittle Alien

The conformity of city life
is abandoned with a sharp breath-
shocking the mind’s eye.

A grey, cold sky becomes darker
and darker as time’s brittle fingers
scratch the reasons why we live
in a place so alien; reality’s marker:
Thoughts race madly while spoken words
confuse adrenaline pumping faster
than the eye can blink.

Radio language chokes out fragile smiles
while the soul’s minds relax to think
of what to construct from the future’s miles.

Energy creates the force of life and death
that surrounds the splintered air,
I close my swollen eyes
and still see the confusion
of harsh simplicity.