3am and going home

and the dank streets seeped gases and
noxious tears of the girls lying flat out breasts pressed
down on the pavement moaning with cigarette
ash pain
involuntary pleasure unwillingly
crying screaming comparatives at
the weeping sidewalk under sickly city lights

(we're all tired, eyelids drooping, aren't they tired
yet?)

solidified felt like we weren't moving at all 'til we went
swooshing through the tunnel
snapping fractured eyes out of the vacuum our subway left behind

a yawn fogged the window fucked the window and

swoosh
sweeping out from black shadows into the realm of skeletal
vaguely green ghostly grey trees shuddering mental
physical shrieks so abrupt so staccato and
(how'd we get away so quickly?)

and as it is we're left with cold echoes of harder harder harder
screaming blazing in our capsule's stinking wake
(they were never pure what the fuck were we staring at anyway?)
and you know their ghosts would shoot you if they could