This city sinks/ submerged in hidden beauty- is it today’s dead bones or yesteryear’s favourite heroes. As aforementioned pedestrianised modern-day equivalent’s nonchalantly stroll these pUlsAtInG sTrEeTs
With their wandering and roaming entitlements. Meant to feel… every little thing, perhaps?!
That man who sleeps separately-both-silently above all of those dead-and-buried, BURNT-TO-A-CRISP bodies- he drinks to make them think… TIMES A MILLION, really!
and eagerly WHISPER it IN HIS ringing EARS…
“What on Earth are you doing to yourself, to our SWEET dilapidated city?”
“Myself?! Me.. sitting immediately right HERE? I am only ever adding to this sweetening sense of dilapidated human furniture meant for future-decade decay…
Sinking with this drunken Smile Painted proudly Upon My Fate.”
