what now

sometimes its cold and it feels like the sun never rises here

and yet it does

not so much on the green

much of the city is rubble

not from broken dreams

but broken lives

in search for the dreamless dream

in maniacal psychadelic fashion

the people of this city shed their dreams for the collective dream that is this city

if the famous wall was a mirror

in what shade would it color the ugly reflection

what time of day

for a city so well known for the darkness

which person

cause you can get lost in it too

and that seems to be the charm

yet all is quiet

and the broken lives are left to be picked up by sobering insomniacs

without any names