Depravity

March 2, 2011
The sounds
of violence gnaw at my ears
As the woman
The one in apartment two
Hits the wall
Again
Fourth (Or is it fifth) time tonight

This motel ceiling is cultivated
With things I don't
Want to know
Or realize what family they belong To
As noises from above seep through
The ceiling and
The sounds of sex permeates every
Where
Where is there silence

Scents are the most apt measure
of human depravity
Sex is distinct
Violence is distinct
Weed is distinct
The odors are tangible tonight
Here
Where the beasts live
Those of us with no morals left
Those of us who are waiting to die
This is where we live

Blood spatters adorn
the bed
No doubt a souvenir left behind
By its last inhabits
Thank you and have a nice night
Your trace is here
Here where we, scourge of the town,
Exist
Behind brick walls and black curtains

Run down, dirty, contaminated
No bill of health obtained
(And no I.D.'s needed)
We spread
Our plague throughout this town
Corroding the just and
Eating out their hearts
Still beating
We live forever tonight
On the shoulders of disregard
Left behind
To wither away and fall

But
Society in all of its beauty
And justness
Will fall at our hands
With their neat facade
crumpled
This night belongs to us
Golden colors
And silver souls have no place here
This is our town
We exist
Solely
To be able to destroy
Everything that begets anything

Morning
Sun rising strong over
Town and markets open crowded
The woman
In apartment two is silent
-maybe dead-
And I can't bring myself to care
About the couple having sex
drug dealers in black
Even the blood on my sheets is irrelevant
And already dry
It's another morning
And another night will follow





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