Roadkill suns stare down from the steps of churches in the downtown barrier street, watching for petty marks and idealistic youth, mindless of the superficial twinge of enlightened self-laothing that dances across their eyes. Foul slabs of decay and addiction drive by in their SUVs, midnless of eveyrhting but their dicks and paychecks. Life proceeds, forever on pause, never moving forward. Two girls sun themselves in the afternoon breeze, mindless of the dangers always hiding behind the translucent walls of these treets. This city is a dead thing, an artifice of false-life held up by the constant infusion of youthful idealism. But cold reality reigns supreme and darkness is always a few hours away. Then, the barking of the junkies lies alongside the chirping of cicadas. The days are nights in waiting.


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