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Misery, interrupted (144 hits)

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Submitted by JamOwilly (View user info) at 2007-09-17 08:41:36 EDT


I guess you could say I've had enough with the smell of burning crack cocaine, stale piss and the sounds of hookers taking it from two men at once, just feet away from where I live.

I'm sick of the sticky residue that cakes my face when I spend any more than 5 minutes outside my front door. Breathing the air in this city is similar to having one's face stuffed into one of those billowing smokestacks you see lining the horizon in pictures of Detroit in the 50's.

And the people...good god. The people. They fester and erode and suck dry any semblance of good or sustainable positivity. If ever there is a sign of development, improvement of health, integrity or otherwise, it is immediately quarantined, laughed at and destroyed. These people would rather wade through pools of their own shit than work a hour of their lives.

I'm done with it.

I don't have much...just a few bags of clothes and a small box of my late mother's jewelry I've kept beneath the floorboards since I moved here. I'm 39, unmarried, childless and finally, on the road again. I think I'll move somewhere coastal...somewhere cleansed daily with the mist of the sea sweeping in like a gush of peace. I want the sun kissing my forehead wherever I go.

Here, the only thing kissing anything else are the lips of a crackwhore on a lesioned prick of some pimp across the way. I will not miss the disease of this place. I will not miss the grime on the curbs; I will trade all this for a blissful existence elsewhere, regardless the sacrifice.

My bags are packed. I've made my mind up and tomorrow I leave. I don't care where I end up - wherever it is, I won't be sending postcards back to this dump of a city.

I've got a little black book with my poems in
I've got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in
I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues.


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