Toll Booth

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. - Thoreau

Smiling fraudulently to hide despair.

Trudging through a dangerous lair.

The city I live in is not very nice.

Everyone pays a hefty, life-sucking price.

The people are shadier than the streets.

There are plenty of laundromats where you can wash your sheets.

Quite a few churches rise up from the trampled ground to try and cleanse your soul.

It's nearly impossible to dig your way out of pergatory's hole.

As hopelessness exacts its wretched toll.

Everything's befouled here.

As what is precious draws near.

The sordid money and the fingers.

As a costly anguish lingers.

Angels try to sing but have lost their voice.

At least they have a choice.

The sun never seems to shine.

It's a monumental crime.

Even the tainted water has trouble turning into wine ...

Author's Note

“City life is millions of people being lonesome together.” - Thoreau

“In the large towns and cities, where civilization especially prevails, the number of those who own a shelter is a very small fraction of the whole. The rest pay an annual tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable summer and winter, which would buy a village of Indian wigwams, but now helps to keep them poor as long as they live.” - Thoreau