Tuesday, 1 November 2005
i am the dark of the city. the bloated spider that shuffles. cobweb ugly and spun for miles. i am the stain on the subway. the blade in your rib cage that twists like a drill. concrete and glass. chrome and steel. i am the scent of the alley. man piss and fear that lingers in gasoline corners. a regal old lady who rustles her skirts. noble and distantly remote like ice on a hill. i am the dark of the city. a shadow that reflects the passage of time with tarmacadum tears and neon stars. smell the garbage that lingers in cabbage strewn gutters. hear the sound of commerce tolling the till with cheap ale and perfume and cigarette smoke. there is random violence. there is loveless sex. there are bootheels on pavements cracked like old make-up. there is black and there is white and there are colours in between but nothing is grey in this grey situation when the rain fills your brain and history calls. and tomorrow follows on the whim of the underground. and the newspaper vendors shout the same old new news. i am the dark of the city that creeps out of tunnels. that sneaks into green parts for fresh air to breathe. the rats have wings and are fed by the handful as they climb up on high to shit in your ears. and the river gives chase to the mirrored cab lights as the dark of the city pursues young ghosts.
words by cocaine jesus