small black dogs run around
one is very pregnant
tits on the ground.
the crack head behind me mumbles to herself
something to me about cigs and inspecting them
i have no idea what goes on in her head
i never will.
this city steals souls and i can see it happening.
we have started to call this place home.
but it never will be.
no where can be a home.
until the feeling of complete comfort is here
i am so uncomfortable here
so bad
this city smells
like hate
like pain
like constant greed
like drugs
like the struggle to survive
the dog has a blue collar
it looks at me with big longing eyes
it wants to be loved
wants to be needed
every person is like a good dog
completely loyal
willing to protect the people it loves
i wish i had people like that here
but no
all my people are gone somewhere else
they are miles and miles away.
so i sit here
i feel alone
i lie on my projects.
i do everything i can to try and not feel
lonely
depressed
its true when we jokingly say we dont laugh here
we laugh when something funny happens
but its always funny becuase it causes us pain and we realize it.
its ridiculous.
i need to get my shit together
i need to have the will to survive
but im no competitor
i am a whimp
survival of the fittest
will i survuve?
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