a poem by Derrek Faraday

I'm very tired, running away

To a New York street in the fray

But fret as it’s cold

Who could bear to sleep alone in households?

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Pay my debts off, I'm getting by

Money talks and I'm telling lies

But that is nature, we'll never stop for yellow lights

It's not a sign, we are finding our blight

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Week for the drugstore, I see a face

All too familiarly replaced

That's how I know this street

For its gross, amazing change and its beats

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Never settled, never asked why

Transit speeds too fast to remember the sky

I have money I abuse, I've never seen it before

Love's labor chore

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Hell freezes nowhere

Money is everywhere

Homes don't move at the speed of life

And that's a sign

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