Cities are Flammable

Swim with the fishes
that’s what they said
when the wet realities
of a naked world
came creeping into your
sub conscience  
the river bends and curves
terrifying and soothing
all at once
like a snake
tightening around your neck
and what would they know, anyway?
with their teeth and
moisturizer cream and
cucumber face packs and
designer sweat shirts and
comfortable good looks
like it ever saved them from anything
anything real, I mean,
like it ever meant something.

how can you know my mind?
or anyone’s for that matter
each one is a hidden crypt
overgrown with vines and
other Indiana Jones clichés
each step sets off a pressure plate
puzzle in my head
you’re one verbal knuckle duster
away from being shut out
it doesn’t mean anything
my weathered doors just remain closed
to you 
I carry on existing
no satisfaction from saying this
no catharsis delivered
no hand maidens padding my forehead
I carry on existing
just a sign on a motor way
indicating your direction
your inevitable destination:
nowhere.
unless I like you.