Fecking deap, no?

There is nothing more bleak
than a chicago sunrise
during a wintry dawn
frozen doors
a sea of black peacoats
on a train to
nowhere

I've seen fleeting fires of doting vestiges
I've been exposed
to something obsolete and reminiscent
a vague portrayal
to a convoluted thought about intimacy
that delves into the underground
Is this my personal fortitude?

A hollow rapport
midwestern skin so pale
the sunken sockets
that swallow eyes
pale blue, fathomless brown
into an abyss to
nowhere

I've seen those who look into the sky
I've been uneasy
because the clouds do not have mouths
thoughts or eyes
so who is that old man uttering to
when he is so deep in the underground
Is it the flickering lights?

A pint of modern, diluted moonshine
sold at the hole in the wall dive
unwillingly sobered
by a desolate bed
where pillows clasp
like the grasp of a gent
only in my dreams to
nowhere