It's a highway of thoughts going a hundred miles per hour,
the shops are all selling bouquets of dead flowers,
gifts you wanted for Christmas but never got,
and everything you want but can't afford.
It's a city that never sleeps,
seemingly filled with perverts and creeps,
and it seems really busy
but really it's empty
because you realize there's no one but you.
No wait, that's not true -
your mother stopped in to call you a whore.
The theater's playing memories no one watches anymore.
No one but you,
and you just keep playing the part where they kiss,
over,
and over,
and over again.
It's a metropolis where every building and project has been abandoned,
and every bridge burnt,
so you're left standing
wondering, where to go
trying to make it all make sense.
You hear in the distance
a low rumble,
then a roar.
Breaths that shake the ground and the floor,
a shrieking, crying, wailing storm.
And you realize that this is what's been taking the toll,
for the mind could be a quiet place,
if not for the screaming of the tortured soul.
So it continues to flood under each tear that drops,
because
the screaming
never
stops.
