Monday, November 2, 2015

New York is Burning

The tang of sulphur from a lit match.

The sour, piney aroma of marijuana, drifting behind some law breaker as he struts uncaring down Broadway.

Cars growl exhaust, and every breath is a small preview of the grave.

Street lights bend their lofty heads beneath skyscraping towers, each one filled with light, all burning through the darkness, indifferent to the vagaries of air, just burning, burning.

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