Back in the dark

Bin away,
but not thrown away.
Recycled or just returned,
not rubbish anyway.
A denizen of the dark.
A heady swirl serves a savage welcome;
with vapourous cosh a welcoming smile.
Home returned the gloom greets.
A denizen of the dark.
So back in the fug,
senses stymied and output obscured.
It's the same old, same old.
For a denizen in the dark.
Back to tread to streets of grime, no shine;
Pen hits paper, thoughts unwind; but we're in the dark, this could be unkind.
Pace and rhyme just metrics in time, and we'll be on the run; we'll be victims and crime.
A denizen in the dark.