Destinations

I'm fixated on the way people bleed

out

Into the streets of cities with dry air

and

Ugly attitudes that flutter on lashes

like

A toxic breeze of expectant cruelty.

.

What would unrestricted brutality

birth

If given the right breeding conditions?

.

I started to see the results, their offspring,

on

Those dry streets stinking of vomit

and

Floral scents too doused in alcohol to be

real.

.

I

Didn't like what I saw in those alleys,

but

The scarier of the things was the way

my

Reflection distorted in their blown

pupils.

.

I was a thing with sharp teeth and

a

Wicked tongue eager to lap up the

blood

Of the perceived uselessness of others

but

That can't be right, can it?

no,

It must be a trick of the light.