A slow smoke wafts across the moonlight, tonight young dreamers will dream. Some will swallow the hook of systemite mind games and be hell bent on, ‘Being someone’ or ‘’something’. The great slippery pole of career and ambition will poison their lives, till one day in their sixties or seventies they will ask, “Who put it there?”
Making a mark on history will consume the adrenalin junkies, and the beauty of failure with beautiful losers will float over their heads.
The outcasts in the gloom, vainly driven by the mystery ‘something,’ non-people not ever to be named, their tortured eyes unknowing. Gone people, whose spirits shake the grass of a rich man’s land. Who knows what hopes and dreams are buried under concrete motorways’?
Tomorrow will baptize yesterday into its ownership and attempt to seduce my memories……. But, what you know you know!