And the heavens opened and it lashed down.
Rivers of filth, syringes and broken hearts littered the gutters of the central business district.
Bodies lined the roads immobile waiting for the flood, saying nothing at all just watching and waiting, breathing and touching no one. Not a word said, not a hand held, not an eye met, ears pinned for the rumble of the brilliant white truth that they had all been waiting for.
The switches flicked and everyone turned off. This is mine this is mine im going home. I am fine I am fine I am going home.There is no hope. Hope is a dirty word that'll stab you in the back when you offer up your throat. Goodbye to you, you mean nothing. You mean nothing to me now. You're a sheet of paper with a word written on it blowing in the wind. And soon you'll land and rot by the side of the road and the word will sigh and the word will fade and be gone. And I won't remember who you are.