lying in bed, on top of the blankets, bathed in the purple tv glow, thinking, for every couple staring out the window at the marvelous paris city lights, there’s another couple fighting in some bedroom, just like this, never having made it, unsure if life began, unsure of how they walked through the door.

-

the cars and streets move in silence, some of the buildings look like dreams from long ago — and here i am, soaked in cheap whiskey, unable to sleep, staring at the dumb, stupid city lights. burning, burning, burning alive.