The rain from the night
puddled his course.
Like sands in the desert -
the winds kicked up cold dirt.
Carrying thoughts peculiar,
Circling the odd world -
the loner marched forward,
Under pulsing light posts.

Clouds casted like sky castles.
Exhales lasted like chem trails.
Outstretched skyscrapers,
Haunted like tall tales.

The outcasts of the city -
Fixed like train rails,
Would outlast you for your pity,
In exchange for your giving.

Feening for their fix, sitting on a ledge.
Like pigeons bobbing heads,
Eating crumbs of bread.
Shaking cups of change,
Living on the edge...

The loner's mind lingered,
In a lost life, far off -
The desire for wholeness.
The feeling, the closest -
What he felt was the motion,
Like waves of the ocean -
So eager, the notion...

To escape the monotonous hum.

The uncertainty of wondering when he'd blast off into the mellow sun.
The beat of the drum that rolled on
Like tumbleweeds
To keep going...
And the alarm that woke him morning after morning,
buzzed like bumblebees.

The noise of familiar streets,
Taverns and theatres,
Now abandoned and boarded,
Lost in the ether.
Still played in the banks of memories
Like a recording.
Before times were foisted,
And the Lords took them over -
The Lord's, who he thought would help him survive.
But now his only means of keeping alive.

His thoughts - like a phantom,
Blended back into the havoc.
Coping in the dystopic madness.
A fix. A fiend. A son. A madman.

_

He buried his hand in his pocket to fetch his pass.
Hurried to catch his rocket before...