Are you in search of faith or fate,
and can you strike the path?
Are you only righteous in the night,
when all the eyes have passed?
To even dream is esoteric.
Hard times when all districts are red light,
and shine electric.
We’re selling souls for bulk from windows,
for star sights.
star light burns too fast.

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This entry was posted in dreamer, exposed, heart, night, nomad, original, poem, poet, restless, rogue, stars, words, writer and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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