Odd duo

Morning, leeched of sunshine
stumbles upon the city -
a drunken actor without his lines;
grey roads shimmer
from rusty coats
of memories warm
weaving silence into departure;
as the day slides in
like an envelope under a door,
barely there,
but edged with foreboding
it culminates into
an accustomed violence
until rain lashes over
like a serpent's tongue
on a cowering land,
rubber and tar shriek
visions blur, locks turn,
and there is silence all over again.
Only the clock ticks away.