Neon Light

Staring outside of my window at 1am.
The glare of the neon sign
luminating from the whore house next door
is the only light to saturate,
to penetrate
my one room fortress.

As I type the words that
keep me alive,
the tapping of the keys
keep being interrupted by the high-pitched
wheezing, and crackling sound
of the nauseating fluorescence.

Nearing its last breath, the painful chalkboard like screech
only gets louder, yet, is my calm.
Every spark that passes beyond its rough, decrepit metal exterior
tells me the night is almost over as the vibrant red X’s
turn pale and seep into the gutter below–
going out one by one.
I am nearly blind.
Only minutes left till the dimness overwhelms me,
I am left to let go and to back away from my lifeline.

At least I will still have the drunken gibberish
spewing from the “Johns” below since daylight ruins the night.


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