
It's under the neon light
that we get our fix
we,
there used to be a group
but now I sit alone.
No need to role my shirt up
I came prepared
No shirt.
No shoes.
No hope.
The spark from my lighter
that is what sends it
the warm glow
over the unsuspecting walls of the subway,
a thousand stories, all horrible
were written, witnessed
within the company of these dark formations.
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