The process of losing yourself

Run aground in a land of bars
Streets of dust and hurry
Over sized donuts
parking lots and terminals

No rain, so local people urge tears
To wet the ground and demand care

The bus drags on through the sun's glare
Leaves me at the four taverns
Many a surrounding slum in slumber
The candy bar drops and so does the bungy jumper

Downward to sugar upward to scorn
The polar opposite- living to die, dying to be born
Checking belongings
It's time to leave, to detach

What have I left behind?
My heart? My liver? My stomach? my mind?
Jump onto the bus and let it carry me
all the way to the terminal

This city has no heart, no mind
It uses ours to cry and think

Why can't I find myself
Streets have become so familiar
Where is my house, my love?
Those that were left behind by death do so half grieved

The rest accumulates like a lottery of sadness
No letterbox or window ushers me there
I search through the suburbs of panic and heartache
I kneel by the grassy verge near holiday parks outside the city

Rain comes to me there to keep the green, green
A lost friend's umbrella protects me
His words assure me that somehow I've grown
A comfort I have sincerely never known