Low-End Notes
written by: John Neff
I stay awake while the city slows its breath,
Streetlight halos nodding over life and death.
Windows blink stories they don’t want to tell,
Every floor got a heaven, every stair got a hell.
Sirens hum bass like a restless drum,
Heartbeat of a place that won’t go numb.
People move fast like they’re late for relief,
Chasing proof instead of chasing peace.
I don’t chase — I lean back and read,
Watch the rhythm trip over want and need.
See ambition sweat through tailored seams,
See fake smiles crack at the edge of dreams.
Everybody loud till the room goes thin,
Then the real thoughts start leaking in.
Confidence fades when the lights go low,
That’s when the truth starts stealing the show.
I catch it all, I don’t flinch or fluster,
The rise, the fall, the flex, the bluster.
Egos bounce like unpaid rent,
Everyone rich in intent, broke in content.
They swear they’re free but they move on cue,
Dancing for a crowd that never knew.
Metrics talk louder than heartbeats do,
Numbers got souls now — didn’t you know that too?
I’m not judging, nah, I’ve been there myself,
Stacked my worth on somebody else’s shelf.
Learned real quick what the quiet costs,
What you gain in silence you don’t post as loss.
So I watch from the cracks where the tempo bends,
Where the night pretends it’s nobody’s friend.
That’s where funk lives — not loud, not clean,
Just a sideways sway in between the scenes.
Funk ain’t flashy, it don’t beg for likes,
It rolls like truth on a late-night mic.
It limps a little, got scars in the groove,
Still got more soul than a polished move.
I see lovers scroll past each other’s pain,
Same couch, same room, different lanes.
Arguments pause for a notification chime,
Even heartbreak gotta wait its time.
Kids grow quick under borrowed light,
Mirrors raised by a screen’s insight.
Old men trace the tremble in time,
Replaying risks they declined to climb.
I absorb it, let it pass through bone,
This tired alertness I’ve grown into home.
Not numb — just trained to stay awake,
Knowing when to hold, knowing when to break.
Some nights I feel it heavy in my chest,
Like I know too much to ever rest.
Other nights I laugh at the beautiful mess,
At how chaos still tries to dress its best.
I don’t scream warnings, I don’t wave signs,
The truth don’t panic — it keeps good time.
It shows up slow, it sticks around,
Like a low-end note you feel, not hear, in the sound.
So if I seem distant, if I drift instead,
It’s not apathy — it’s where I tread.
I stand where the noise forgets its name,
Where the mask comes off, where nothing’s framed.
Still tired, yeah — but my eyes stay sharp,
Still alert in the darkened parts.
While the world runs loud, chasing pretend,
I watch it breathe…
right up to the end.
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