Belligerent Poetry

Untitled #06

and i step in
from the cold rain
of shinjuku streets,
covered in neon dust from a million different
signs
broken in two by a war of umbrellas,
stepped on by a rushing mob of strangers

and here,
in the quiet smokefilled room
i sit alone, silent
and communicate with far off friends,
through broken moments
shared in never-too-recent-memory
mostly as i lay me down to sleep
beneath a sea of dreams
so deep.

-wil 11.09.01