Prowling,
going where
The Need
leads onto
deserted
asphalt streets,
buildings
of the tall canyons
skyward.
Wings to fly above
the crushing ensemble.
The noise
affecting the outcome.
No score to keep.
No result to mind.
Maddening gangs
of faceless creatures
elbow to elbow,
the rush
continues.
Neon signs
pointing the way.
No direction
to lose the urge.
Hunger consumes
The Need.
(9-27-2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem