Josh G

When walking in the dark you notice things. You’re by yourself watching the things that change over night. Like in fall when the leaves that inhabited the trees fall on the streets, where the moon smiles and makes a path of light for you to walk upon. You don’t know exactly where you’re going, all you know is that you just want to belong. In a hope of desperation for you to relax with the cold ,you light a cigarette. The burning tobacco swells inside your lungs. You exhale with a sigh of relief.

In the sky light clouds are painted. Covering the stairs that tingle that nerve in your spine that says I’m home. In the beginning of time humans wanted only to survive but we were too incompetent to understand the small taste of love is the only heat from fire we need. Upon looking at the barren streets were only the leaves that are decaying wishing they had the ability to look at their life one last time and smile with sorrow. But thinking in the way I do, I see the small lines of imperfection in this painting. I see the plague that waits to be fed. Like an infant child crying for it’s mother to come and let it feed off of her body.

This sickness, this disease is our own mistake. A creature we spawned by the names that are etched into our tongues. A monster that should breath smoke and destroy countries. Or maybe there is already a creature like that, that exists. But the famine I speak of is your closest friend and your worst enemy. They know your secrets that you tried to burn . The things that make your heart pump blood with shards of ice. You walk with their footsteps . And sleep with their dreams. Just look in the mirror and you’ll understand what I mean. But the imperfection is what makes everything beautiful in a new lighting.