late night poetry spasms

at like 2am i started feeling poetic...but all i have to show for it are like a few lines of three different crappy poems. here they are.

red flakes chipping
from fingernail tips
ripping some strangers back
passion in haze
this cosmopolitan craze...

______________________________

this anonimity sweetens
with every bridge that lays in cinders
ashes in red river beds
the strangers of this city
make the loneliness softer
on smile in a thousand faces
disolves a bitter frown...

_____________________________

paint flakes from rundown walls
cobb webs in the corners make a movement
for the hall
a dust two years thick
settles softly
after the door slams...