dying citys in a dead world♥March 13, 2004♥ prev/next♥
heavy fog hangs over cities lying half-awake beneath the gloom, drowsed into sleep by the air, hot and humid as it enters tar-covered concrete lungs. we pierce our ears with blasphemy as we wait for the sky to give in and rain, and when she does, we hang raindrops from our ears like stolen jewelry, mock imitations of expensive diamonds framed in platinum. girls with broken hearts scream from park benches in the middle of the falling city, wailing of injustice and god's failure and never realizing that they make their own tragedies, and that they cannot be saved. damsel in distress syndrome is so yesterday, didn't you get the memo? there are no heroes left in the world, baby girl. they died out the first time a man violated his own daughter and dared to say it was justified.
we cannot smile in worlds that are broken, though through all the smoke and ashes, we still find beauty. the artist's eye always watching for the perfect image, the one captivating emotion, the single original way of placing the words. we see the good, the bad, the ugly, and only cry for more. the only thing you can do to save the world is to present to them the way they are hurting, so they may see, and know they are not alone.
my heart belongs in manhattan, scyscrapers and studio apartments that cost more than i can afford, even when i eat nothing for a week just to make rent. and though they laugh and say i am crazy, that it is impossible, i can't believe it. won't believe it. anything is possible if you want it badly enough, and i refuse to be a corporate drone living in a two-bedroom house with a husband and a child. artists belong in dying cities and this city is too alive for my tastes.