Back to the wall 

Eyes to the ceiling where 

pendant light leaks onto 

every cobwebbed corner 

Wade ankle-deep in sunbeams 

through unshaded city 

Mind smacking lips in 

a parched cry for moisture 

Floating islands beckon with 

buried treasure reckoning 

Useful things mistaken 

for things that can be used 

Night falls brightly on- 

to the neck of sleep 

Fangs bared 

Cloak drawn back 

Victims stumbling blindly 

through luminous streets 

(First published by Urban Scrawl)