The street is desert. Thin lines of waste race across the surface of the street.  down the curb. gathering around a clogged drain. turning thick and brown.  

From earth to air.  The street is almost empty of life.  Flies don’t fly and earth bugs are too scared to scurry.  I smell the vultures.  In this city the air is heavy and they flap their wings but they cannot fly.

They walk around and look for dead things.  Zombies are dead things.

We see life in chemicals.  Chemicals need containers to thrive.  We are containers.  
Chemicals see life in us.  Chemicals thrive in us. Chemicals multiply in us.  
Chemicals are life in us.

People, people, so many people.  Living so close to each other.  People are lonely creatures.  More people does not reduce the loneliness.  People are lost creatures.  Following every direction.  Getting nowhere.

People have minds.  Some minds are swamps.  Full of life yet lifeless.  Stagnant.  Devoid of meaning.  The smell of air that cannot get out of its own way.  Accumulating trash that is never discarded.

I lie in all this muck and make dirt angels.  ***** angels.  God makes ***** angels.  
Sick from the smell of themselves.

I live in thick skin.  heavy like a morning fog.  more like smog.  that never lifts.  created by humans.  nothing penetrates me.  I do not feel.  I was not always this way.

I live in a city.