rhythm of street sounds

       fade
from place to post 
and new faces
dance
within an abstracted
 oasis
whilst the watching world
reflects       itself
in the heart of nouns
that enigmatic one 
breaths
to every dying norm
a wasted
toiling
   tethered
    over this divine
misadventure
    we go drifting down
on sidewalks 
as we gather
in a darkened mind
pulling              alittle tighter

a lock or two more
and we close the door
on childhood grace
and dancing souls
are sightless
to all of these 
  disgraces

In response to A State of Conflict | Ridingbitchblog.com