Lavender Nightsky

There are open wounds underneath this city
And they fester with rats and poison.
We are the generation of implants.
Thrown in the trash can.
Should the wound reject us.
We believe in deities long since forgotten.
We climb ladders, step on snakes.
Feed the flesh and cleanse the urges.
And when the night calls us, we deliver our spirits
From cradle to grave we crawl
The purpose is the same
Only the frequencies differ
The creative life, the sewers
The story of a moth turning to soil
The mind fed by necessities and opportunities.
All tales and mysteries annihilated
Indifference lurks everywhere
Let us mourn for the sleepless nights.
Let us mourn for the gap in our stomachs
We used to feel something there once
When the wind howled
Under the Milky Way
Amidst the waves engulfing the shore

The wind is dead, no more sailing
Summer will soon be over
Eyes red, no longer shed a tear
This fresh winter shall receive no welcoming gift.