new rivers form in the concrete jungle new gods engraved upon her flesh begin to mumble she steps out into the cold cold night naked save for her soiled socks and she walks down dirty alleyways through a maze of neon clocks past men of black conceiling unthinkable thoughts but no one even looks twice not on this final night because no one here is really aliveBirth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Steve Hessler (Aquarius).