who are you
in the darkest hours of the night
when I'm not looking
and do I really wanna know?
do the city lights
bleed through the blinds
and bounce from your eyes
into the night
from your window
where does your sorrow go
when you find yourself completely alone?
and it's cyclical
you say of the way your day is spent
bed, train, work, and back again
but you talk of these streets
like the veins of your urban memories, manifest
and I'm thrown
where does your sorrow go
when you find yourself completely alone?
blocks and blocks
and swathes of roads
non-descript
and standard homes
dim streetlights
and endless freeway
beers outside convenience stores
tell me things that no one knows
where does all your sorrow go
lacing digits, touching toes
where does all your sorrow go
