The Melancholy of Moonlight

Words are meaningless, lifeless, when uttered in the shadows of lackluster streets.
I didn't plan this...
In an alleyway, beneath a street lamp casting a yellow glow over semi-precious lives, is where our souls died.
Were we ever really living in the first place?
When we would sell our souls for a pack of cigarettes, living in a world where nothing is sacred.
"...looked on by too many pairs of stupid eyes."
When a priceless work of art is worth ten cents and a bowl.
The underdog, a cliché...
The darkness and the ocean breeze washing over an ugly world.
The stench of the underbelly permeating every breath.
I couldn't go back, couldn't ever return to those places.
The world gone dark, swimming in an abyss of cheap nights.
Forgotten evils disguised as a life.
A saint masquerading as a sinner.
Worlds unknown to any, save lost souls.
Dance through tragedy.
Dancing into daybreak...
Between a love song and a silent death.
Notes strummed on a guitar, ringing in my ears.
We look to the dawn, to assuage our fears, to rescue us from Hell.
Hell is frigid, knives in our lungs.
No one knows what it's like to choke on air.
Life is bittersweet...
A spirit could liken it to the beauty in tragedy.
Life is poetry.
It drifts away as a bad dream.
Who could remember all the somethings that we try so hard to forget?
I'll drown in sounds that would carry me up to Heaven.
Hallowed be the names of faces forgotten.
And when I awake, I'll awake to a brilliant golden light.
Light that could make apparent a million shades of green in a single blade of grass.
'Til then, sleep and forget to dream your memories.
Life is fickle, ever-changing...
Someday we'll wash away with the ocean tide.