with the night

waking underneath the weight of the city,
neon signs flicker, and the cats scream
like banshees in the alley.
the bourbon is gone,
the ashtray is full,
my head is heavy with regrets
and half-remembered dreams.

another day stumbling through the grind,
another night chasing shadows,
running from ghosts.
the rent is due,
the fridge is empty,
and the cockroaches,
my loyal companions,
scuttle across the linoleum,
indifferent.

she left last night,
with a suitcase full of promises
we both knew would never be kept.
i watched her walk away,
her silhouette swallowed by the darkness.

i sit at my typewriter,
keys clacking like the last breath of a dying man,
spitting out lines,
trying to capture the fleeting moments of beauty in this decay.

the streets whisper tales of lost souls and broken hearts,
and the moon, hanging low,
watches over us all with a knowing smile.
we are all prisoners here,
chained to our dreams and vices,
searching for meaning
in the cigarette smoke and empty bottles.

but sometimes,
just sometimes,
we find a spark in the darkness,
a fleeting glimpse of something more.
and that’s enough to keep us going,
one more day, one more night,
against the world and everything in it.