This Wicked City

Despite the winter cool,

melodrama of the mania

that surrounds and inveigles,

this fungal city continues to deny,

to suppress and irritate,

provoke and patronise.

Although the window glass

makes mirrors of the man I would be

all it suffices to remind

is I am not.

Yet, within the dimming dusk there is hope,

a modicum of allowance,

acceptance of myself and others.

Promise.

When the wind turns,

the nightmare grows darker

a sheen of polished jet,

then perhaps, just perhaps,

this wicked city

will release me.

Perhaps not?

12 thoughts on “This Wicked City

  1. At first thought oh yeuk spoiled my small town girl view of the tall buildings -fungal city- but as I read it was thought provoked. Mirrors – very useful image really agree. Didn’t like the perhaps not to finish as I felt it was implied anyway. Forgive me I am on a few days off and obviously gone back to teacher mode πŸ˜‰ What do I know !

  2. thanks for the thoughts…i too wonder what it is about anywhere we are that captures our senses and draws us within to explore what is in an outward view.

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