Done with pretending,
with glazed inanimate eyes that watch the whole scenario playe out
out with dust in the wind,
dust in the lungs that are choking up
choking in
with the rest of the street side stalkers walking barefoot in the ash of their illusion
walking hand in hand with the detruction they used to create
and pontificate thier worlds.
living and dying on each word.
doing it all with a smile on the face-
the parting of minds, the parting with love-
the knife that slices just to watch solidary confidiment-
into two, into numerous amounts.
they come by the dozens and leave by the hundreds.