broken dreams

I walk alone.

I walk alone.

A sidewalk with no end in sight, squint up into a casual downpour of acid rain.

Hunger; starvation even.

A smattering of empty promises, heart beating like a bruise. The creeping feeling in your chest that you are slowly going blind.

I walk alone.

I walk alone.

Claustrophobia, but that's ironic because it's so empty here.

Greed pouring wild and wet down the boulevard, drowning the weak and consuming the strong. Gluttony: hungry for more. Here is unrequited love; here is predestined heartache; here is a knife in your back and tell me when it hurts. 

I walk alone.

I walk alone.

Riots in the streets: people without faces, forgotten names. Lungs tight, aching for oxygen.

Desperation, like the dying ping of a heart rate monitor in a static-filled hospital room. Unanswered questions drip out of sinking drainpipes, anxiety cloys in the cracks in the pavement, choked-back tears dry on shivery gray brick.

The simpering white sky was once startling and lovely, but a sad sort of madness crept into the clouds and into the sun and into the stars and it's haunting now, even violent.

I walk alone.

I walk alone.

Cheers,

Syl