poem | rush hour
i cannot seem to stop for anything at all,
not for reds or cars or the voices in my head,
while the pedals creak beneath my trembling feet,
the winter winds may nip at my pallid face and cheeks,
but i’m numb — i can’t seem to feel the sting.
a splotch of yellow amongst the tarmac grey.
the dying rays that hang in sight,
the city whispers that i cannot shake
the flash of car lights blur my vision like a dream i cannot wake
oh i’m cold — as the warmth bleeds from the empty twilight day.
i do not know where i am
in this sea of silver
cars. vehicles that roar,
screech; drivers who shout at me
so faint yet so raucous
i see the bright white
street light
eyes roll
hands hold
stop go
no-
…
sky.
clouds of red.
blue. pink.
grey canvas.
dashed streaks.
birds chirp.
people scream.
the sun sinks lower.
but i’ve already set.
This poem, which was also written in November 2022, continues the theme of using sunsets to convey darker concepts. It is also one of my earlier attempts at writing free verse with longer lines.
