And the heavens opened and it lashed down.
Rivers of filth, syringes and broken hearts littered the
Gutters of the central business district.
Bodies lined the roads immobile waiting for the flood,
Saying nothing at all just watching and waiting,
Breathing and touching no one. Not a word said, not a
Hand held, not an eye met, ears pinned for the rumble of
The brilliant white truth that they had all been waiting
For.
The switches flicked and everyone turned off. This is
Mine this is mine I'm going home. I am fine I am fine I am
Going home. There is no hope. Hope is a dirty word that'll
Stab you in the back when you offer up your throat.
Goodbye to you, you mean nothing. You mean nothing to me
Now. You're a sheet of paper with a word written on it
Blowing in the wind. And soon you'll land and rot by the
Side of the road and the word will sigh and the word will
Fade and be gone. And I won't remember who you are.
