The Journey of Me

Obviously,
cities are different then suburban areas. But there is a difference in the air. The sudden peak of energy, of light.

Even the air is different. Even when cities merge with suburban, there is a release
of breath
of sulpher and action.

The grit falls at the waistline and there is some sort of
peace
that seems to pervade the simple streets and tree-lined avenues of suburban life. But there is something that is hidden behind the shutters. There is a fakeness that pervades. A calming, warming fakeness. One can not trust what is behind those smiles and soothing, fresh air.

While the city
with its brash
metallic lights constantly pervades the idea that we must live in truth,
in constant battle against a front
and a truth that our life is just a skeleton filled with guts, blood, and tiny, glutinous strings. It is not
beautiful.
It is grotesque and filled with pus, fluids, bacteria.
And I am filled with happiness to walk the sun-lit pavement
to know that I am among the converts of truth,
unbeauty,
and crime-filled justice.