I'm walking down the street, the concrete molds around my feet like shallow quicksand, I can feel everything that has occurred here before, step by step.
I step over the area that has been thrown up on, several times, I feel the asault, the cars screaming by, everyone that has spit on this piece of newspaper that floats almost as a protest to gravity, to the street itself.

am i insane or just unemployable?

the night covers, the city lights burn

sitting, watching the water flow into the gutters

the wind carries a newspaper, floats by like the ghost of a lost friend

its funny, I can feel the concrete surging with life underneath me

if I put my finger in the crack I know its alive and that underneath me is the heart, the generator

its just like me