Neon Revelations In Metropolis

the rain kisses the chrome of the streets here where shadows stretch long, i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. my boots tap a rhythm older than the sea himself, neighbors whisper tales of coffee stains on walls, some claim the temp hiccups like a bad DJ. reviews sum it up: drunk advice, a cozy peddle spot for relics. someone mentioned the humidity’s a ghost there, always lurking. i stare at my sketchbook, mixing colors like bad poetry, sometimes i pass by a street performer’s guitar, fleeting glimpses lives, like crumbs on a sled. the wind hums through canyons here, a low thrum i can’t tidy, streets humming with unseen tongues. constraints distort them all, but i’m stuck, tangled in brightness. need a place to snag a mug, maybe? or just watch?

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