What's Your Poison? Poem by Way Lenn

Traffic swishes over wet roads.
The night crawlers have returned to their lairs;
They will be upset by the light that awaits them, ash-grey.
They will smoke cigarettes as if sucking the sky.

Oh didn't I hear them last night as i lay in bed,
And they pierced the air.

I have been amongst them, their night runs into oblivion,
They take that thing and they go on forever;
They haul themselves along over bewildering gravity,
They fix on you a drowned glare.

Today they sit hollow, in a cloud,
Waiting for something to embody their space.

The bell tolls in the distance bringing people
To their knees in front of a man in a robe.