The city spits and swallows
Leaving dirt pressed against its lips
The hollow shell consumes
Personality, Imperfections;
Colored veins prove existence,
Vulnerability.
The city cracks
Open, the streets divide
The human marketplace
Is ever-growing, ever-changing;
Voices are lost in the medium,
Trapped.
She sits next to me,
I look at her, *******
On a cigarette;
Happiness sits on the
Top shelf, sleeping,
Wishing.
She touches her lips,
Feels the dirt, wipes it clean;
The blood in her mouth
Leaks, lingers
Red like a plum, cut,
Scattered.
She dances
For the people cold and
Lifeless, A product of obsession;
Full of sickness, full of eyes
Watching her move from the dark,
Silent.
The city spits and swallows
But never washes
The dirt piling up
And the blood strewing out;
Like seduction in motion,
Gasping.