Greyly Wasted
In tune with the urban,My mind tastes of concrete.
I feel greyly wasted.
Wading through this thickly
Gritty jelly miasma,
My musings are hollow
Techno-thoughts and theories.
Drugged by the routine,
Sheathed in a habituate
Of movement and necessity,
I feel the need to calm.
In each mad rush of a moment,
Heavy pets of worries
Surge to a boom climax.
Persisting to alarm
And unease.
Fetching me my
Little daily frights.
Leaving me with some
Purpose to perform.
October 2004