Opulent, Decadent, Almost vicelike. The people grovel, Teeming among the city that sinks Under the weight of its own Infestation of the self. The glass reflects the leering eyes of the masses.
The stench of the water rises, Cloying. Languid in obscenity The shadows rot, unseen. A graveyard of moorings past.
A woman falls. We crowd around, Vultures Jockeying for view.
Guitar strings vibrate in the square The sun beats down.