Despite the torpid heart underneath my crust
Despite the erronous idea i have of love
My stubborn hands keep sending wingless doves
To the noble enemy i am dreaming of
Despite the pale complexion of my hope
Despite the suffocative knot inside my throat
I spend sleepless nights filling envelopes
With bits and parts of me thoughts and anecdotes
Oh the charcoal grey streets
The traffic din the sound i breathe
In the belly of the beast
On a subway bench i’ll get back to my seat
What a foolish minded enterprise
To open up and suck the juice out of a sunless sky
To believe there hides no scorn no lies
No treason in her speech no cunning in her eyes
Oh the smoggy urban air
The leafless planes around the central square
I am soon to trade my prayers
For the resignation of despair