Onomatopoeia

I see streetlights twinkling a little more on finite nights, 

when my grief stricken breaths are impotent to sleep as my

hungry stomach gurgles with a louder whim, 

for my pockets haven't licked a single cent today 

and my palm lines failed to stitch a fairytale yet again.

This pale skin shiver upon when my teeth chatter 

after basking on midnight winds, 

for engines roar just to spill salt on my wounds,

so I seek shelter under closed eyes where nightmares 

adorn these begging hands with mercy over the world 

which draped me in coloured patches of renowned tags.

My heart's been beating through all the 

mayhem every time a clock ticks for another hour 

and my soul ignites in the rage of burnt dreams, 

but I've been a canyon overflowing

with nestled emotions where my torn feet rumble 

and burgeon over rippling waves of ebbing shores 

making my lips stitch hopes in beams.