a skeleton at the intersection

Am I falling back into the black hole again?
Have I slipped yet again
On that bit of the strip
That seems to buckle at it's seams,
And beg for another penny?

I'm feeling the darkness creep up again.
Could it possibly be
That I'm trying to see
Something invisibly visible
Yet so far out of reach?

What am I saying
To the gravy, lumpy and mushy,
That sucks itself to the fork
That I stare to intently at...?

I don't even like gravy.

Gray things; they remind me of the city
So pretty, and so bizarre in it's own,
So full of emptiness; so alone.

I'm a parellelagram
In this big city of bones.