I met a boy on the streets of Brooklyn
and he told me stories of a lying city
with painted bricks,
and buildings that stretched high enough
to stop the world from seeing you.

We started wandering
through a maze of concrete,
in search of a dream that wasn’t yet dead
to replace the one that left
a long time ago.

When night fell we saw the streets
lit by pieces of ourselves that we lost
on the journey
through the city with painted sidewalks
guiding us to a false empire,
resembling all we’d ever wanted.

I began to see every shadow
stretch out from the walls
of Manhattan buildings
filled with men in suits and monotone jobs
with illusions of stability.
And the boy I met was drawn in
and hidden deep within the alleyways
of the only place we were allowed to know.