“Modern Untouchables” ~Kineti~

These muted lanes are forsaken,
With merely a porch light gleaming.
Gently, like a quiescent body;

With one ashen, flickering bulb,
The porch flickers out, and a scream echoes
On suicides, and blissful drugs.

Disaster is if I prick my finger,
But jesting is if I fall and die.
Ironic conceit in these riverways.

How sad it is that we must resort to that
Belittling ourselves with temporary avenues.
I will not walk that path.

In the accord of my eye,
The man in that house gives a bag;
The shadowed victim trades sums of bills.

I run home, in a state of shock.
I want to go home, and visit my girlfriend.
Her voice was tender, and made you alive.

Too bad everything is gone,
And I am living in this fantasy world.
For my bedroom door only leads back to darkness.

This is not me; I know it is not me.
But every night when I walk,
I sadly know that is what they are.

This is the route to my job,
And I really want to help them,
But helping them means ignoring.

All I can do these days
Is to continue to walk past them
Even if tears stream from my face…

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