What do I do from here?
I quit writing for a while because I just didn’t have anything left in me. No love nor god to guide me.
On the love end, well. She was off in some other city, having late night LCD Soundsystem nights into her city, riverwalks and city parks strewn from tip to toe in lights, No curfews, no lack of rights.
She said not to take it personally, that she was leaving the city, not me.
But I am this city.
These streets are my streets,
these potholed veins my blood streams
these bars the future haunts-
This whole goddamn time* reeks,
She was abusive,
though in this warped mind I’d argue
she wouldn’t have been if I didn’t let her be
and maybe she just didn’t want me to let her be
There seems to be something rotten in that, huh?
My sister asked why she was here
i didn’t really have much an answer.
“So that we know what bad looks like,
for when I finally find good?”