Draining the last of my coffee,
I glance up at the big silent clock
hung high on the wall,
its spidery black hands creeping
with unseen velocity towards 4 a.m.
I sit and watch my remaining minutes bleed out
in a pool of luminous silver
while corporate propaganda videos drone on
in loops to the bare cool room.
Ask me what it feels like to be invisible.
Haunted Avenues 