There is a hurricane forming off of the coast of Texas. They say that it will cause widespread destruction is several coastal cities.

I shattered in the alley in an alley off of Spring street.
I lounge is a half hearted slouch favoring the left.
I live with broken glass and a rejected flyer for a hampered artist support group. Sometimes I refuse to get up to relieve myself. The smell can be earthy, robust like some kind of couture scent wafting off the back of a female exiting a surgeons office after a consultation. Something inside of me tells me that one day I will be found and the refuse that keeps me company says not. So I see the shadows off of the cars illegally parked within my vision cast descending shadows and I sleep to never be waken up from my solitary dance.