Fires in the City

The pool of blood in my pocket has turned cold, I’ve been bleeding way too long, I stomped that sum bitch, but he cut me bad. The black choke of the city is keeping me out of breath. All the street lamps are hazy and don’t seem to be doing their job. They’re somewhere following me, if I sit down or stop they’ll rip me apart . There are no cabs in this part of whats left of the city, so I’ll have to stumble myself home. I am too tweaked to worry about that pain in my back, its only flesh I’ll make more. The streets vomit ash and soot on to cars, buildings, everything – but its damn beautiful how the grass and weeds push through the blackened sidewalk all white from the lack of sunlight. They glow. My head feels like cigarette smoke slow and drifting, I’m not sure if I’m even walking home anymore. The smell of fire, the sound of mourning, they’re everywhere. Dark echoes though the streets. I hurt real good but he deserved it. I can smile about it. If I don’t die, I can see if all the blood was worth it.

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