Taking A Walk

Walking down the street as it cries, and the wind desperately attempts to console it. Another woman lost her world in the corner of Herrera and Buscamier. It was only for a night, only for her sick daughter, and only for the thrill of the kill.

The crack in the wall speaks volumes, instigating an urge I have not felt in years. A primal need, a beastly yearning for something more than straightforward madness, no, something else; whatever is behind the trickling blemish on the force of man.

Things haven't been the same since the corner store changed owners, and these newer ones covered up the dog with the droopy eyes, holding the snowcone, with some tacky colored paint, the kind that the sun will eat and shit withing half the summer.

I'm coming for you, grass in the sidewalks, flowers in the sewer grates. I'm coming, I'll find you. The shadows of clouds spread over the rooftops won't even be allowed to breathe until you are safe, and until the voices of the dead are long removed from the corners of their demise.