There's a certain beauty.
In a house falling apart.
With holes in the floor.
Grime collecting in corners.
Never cleaned.
Frantic edgy grafiti.
And a collective apathy.
Punctuated with loud drunken parties.
Cause we're in the ghetto.
In a small town.
And, there's.
Hundreds of cats in our alley.
Left behind by former owners.
Much like.
We.
Are.