Tipsy at Midnight

How we muddle through

listless as the stars,

who shine out of obligation

with no purpose, no meaning.

Underneath the answers

I found only more questions.

Staring at a sky that gleamed

as stale as steel, or maybe,

that was just the mood,

a taste that lingered.

Heavy thoughts poured over,

as I pushed my way home

passing over steam grates,

taking notice of each fallen brick

the laziness of city streets

on quiet, nothing, nights like these.