Life on the streets. |
Never Knowing Change Shadows lengthen, claiming the asphalt earth in spired absorption, reflections of golden glass strikes the growing dark, a meteoric cascade, stepping-stones to night, sightless windows in the ground’s soul. Gaseous aromas intertwine with escaped air from belching grates, high notes of perfume lie within the hidden corners of men’s decay, daily heated until the stench lies heavy and acrid upon the base of the tongue. Full night arrives, bringing the possessor of souls, a panoramic fantasy of forbidden decadence begins, dancing to disjointed neon strobes, their jagged, hollow tubes displaying the matching scene below. Music assaults from open bars, luring the fragile with their siren song of destruction, gone are the street minstrels playing guitars for quarters, replaced by the cat calls of women who date. Darkened alleyways are the boulevard of dreams, their blackened doorways portals for the pressing of money against excited flesh, those mouths hungry for a fix, satisfying each new release brought before them. The streets lie littered with the refuse of humanity, as shadows shorten, welcoming the new day. Each day passes into infinity, never knowing change. |