A city that relies on
opium for its survival
For some the actual
drug
Criticised and
condemned
While for most the
forms more subtle
Maybe more prone to
danger
Sleep that closes
oneself to reality
And perhaps generates dreams
That define what is not
For others music or
books
That give rise to the
subtle feeling of empathy
Or then create worlds
that serve as a point of escape
Else, talks or messages
to fill the time
Defining at times a
sense of duty
At others a meaningful meaninglessness
Its structure unknown
till it evolves
Or that rare writing
An attempt to capture a
moment
That one hopes the
other would understand
Or a refuge into the
world of one’s profession
That offers a much
needed identity
Being polar opposites
of lived experience
Compulsive chatting
with friends
Trying to catch up
And make oneself heard
Or with complete
strangers
To just fill the time
Or then gleefully
eavesdropping
And trying to make
sense
Of the lives of others
While that of the self
Flits by unattended
Others looking out
dispassionately
As the mundane sights
of the city pass by
Either with a blind eye
Or a thought to one’s
position in the scheme of things
And those others lost
in thoughts
Disconnected and aptly
representative
Of a complete and disinterested
letting go
And then the two most
common
And yet strikingly
different
Religion that pushes
the care onto someone else
In a blind faith real
or sought
And newspapers that
give an expose´ of reality
With the unstated power
to criticise or pity
Giving a false sense of
control
Of a world to which one
belongs
Though a world not of
one’s making
And like an addict
Whose other world fades
A sudden coming back to
the moment and its realities
Into which they
assimilate
Pretending that the
other world did not exist
