Monday, 6 May 2013

Where is the sun?

A night never ending
Dark city streets
A shadow detaches itself and scurries
A whirl of trenchcoat and raindrops
Somewhere a car blasts its horn
The night screams its reply

He sits in contemplation
Amateur divination in a shot of whisky
Somewhere in the murky orange light
A piano player’s fingers stroll over the ivories
Fills the air with gloom
The night screams its reply

She sits in the far corner
Chewing ice cubes of her last drink
Casually fanning her disinterest
Watching apathetic couples make small talk
Peeling labels from beer bottles
The night screams its reply

There’s something vague and familiar
About how the scenes play out
We’ve all seen that movie, many times
But this is real life
Longing glances that never meet
The night screams its reply

As our frustrations collide
Like train wrecks slow, jerking in suspending time
He smoulders another cigarette
Cogitates another whisky
Another cube of ice smashes between her teeth
The night screams its reply

Outside, oily blackness, night
Inside, lantern orange, like marmalade; artificial light
On the piano a final discord and the announcement is made
It’s time for all you kind patrons to kindly go away
Swept outside like refuse
The night screams its reply

The story has no end
No saving grace
There is no hero
Only loss
At the end of their night, each and every time
They wonder, where is the sun?

This cold and passionless tableau of misery
Hidden from the world
Under a dome sky of ugly and grey
We wither, our burden is to live until we die
Clinging onto the mortal coil tight, too tight
The night screams its reply

But where is the sun,
To give us hope in this endless parade?

Buried in a locked box, hidden far away
In bitterness, the loveless love no more
Become shadows, faceless strangers
In ...

... a night never ending...