i know the streets
of my city
like the back
of my mother’s hand
the details
are fuzzy
until it strikes me
across the face
i sit
in the parking lot
tasting blood
before spitting
a tooth
onto the dirty asphalt
i know the skyline
out
the highrise windows
like gazing
into my father’s eyes
they are clouded
inebriated
with pollutants
yet
every once in a while
it takes my breath away
in it’s clarity
even as it steadily
refuses
to acknowledge
my existence
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
Love this. Having lived in NY and now LA, I feel you on this one. Your city can be your best friend or your worst enemy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
both at the same instance. from Chicago to Dallas, with stops in your cities as well, the concrete never coddles yet their is comfort in the heartbeat.
LikeLike
So very true
LikeLiked by 1 person
We all so desparately want to be loved and belong. A heartfelt piece mate.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you
LikeLike
The loneliness of being in a crowd.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No lonelier feeling than when surrounded by smiles and lacking the ability to join in.
LikeLiked by 1 person