In our mind devoid of time with the billions of lives flickering in and out. The city clambers with life. The metropolitan is detached and remains as a haven to the lost and weary eyed souls whose lives feign in the day and thrive in the night. Toiling for pennies on the dime. Dying from 9-5 and commuting to be compartmentalized in a cell. The coffee rings at the edge of your desk, the astray you’ve never emptied on your end table. The mounds of aluminum beer cans clang as another joins the heap. The fucking drab accents of tan suits and tacky ties. And that fucking phone rings off the hook. And you can’t escape, but why?
The buzz of neon signs outside the store, as a bustling city washing me in an array of noise.