Madrid Jan 1 2010 (Snapshot of The dead)

(True beauty is the collage of a million ugly 
things) 
  



It´s 
afternoon and the streetlights are on. 


Everyone is 
dead, asleep, or contemplating another year of broken vows. 


Rain water 
seeps through the tattered remains of my Chuck Taylor´s until my feet turn blue, and lose feeling. 


Still I 
make my way through this hangover of a city. 


The modern pseudo fires 
guide me through the twisting calles of La Latina, into the junkie dens and Indian resturaunts of Lavapies. 


While I 
avoid the s**t from dogs, and artists that smear and deface the ancient cobblestones. 


The skin 
of my fingernails save me from the concrete sinkholes littered everywhere. 


Gray sunlight 
blocks my eyes from the darkness, and burns out my corneas. 


La Policía 
chase me in a low speed chase for jaywalking and giving them the finger. 


I search 
for my tongue that was cut out when I was 3. 


Everyone still 
tries to tell me how to live my life, and I still suck all the pollutants out of the air; enjoying every last breath. 


Thoughts of 
pushing old ladies down the street to amuse myself race through my mind. 


I want 
to break all the windows in the building, for the sake of breaking all the windows in the building. 


And laugh 
at all the people who drag themselves to work.