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Asleep

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Autumn ignites a subtle chime
in a howling bell
whose only purpose remains to ring
in the humble curtain call
to an explosive annual hodgepodge
we refer to as summer.
a hustling city
run rampant among chaos
finds itself face to face
with the reality
of having to work
for hope,
or see the dark side of granting yourself unrewarding liberty.
Shimmering water,
line with grains of sand,
becomes nothing more than the familiar postcards
on the clearance rack of an apathetic neighborhood's corner store.
Genuine faces,
previously showcasting
a window to the soul
through which only joy shone,
through which only joy shone,
no longer sincerely greet
nut rather participate in,
the false smiles
passing them by.





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