This town smells like stale cigarettes and the morning after a house party. Sticky and sweet; but you haven’t been here long enough to know why it smells like this when you come back. The city is full of gaping holes you don’t see, and places plagued with emptiness and sweet nostalgia. Dad banned glitter in the 90s and replaced it with the unsavouries who clung on like pesky mosquitoes in the summertime.
I can’t explain it but there’s something about you that reminds me of me. You told me the other night through alcohol tainted glasses that I’d never fully trust you would I? The thing is; I am the city, there are parts of me that you’ll never understand. Curtains on the street will be drawn as soon as you pull up, but then a door will open only enough for you to see the mess accumulated in a pile in the lounge. But you won’t even get to step over the threshold, after seeing the a portion of my life that I’ve succumbed to, in an attempt to push you away.
All my nerve endings were on high alert when you held me the other night, my face was a flatlined heartbeat and I haven’t eaten since. I wish you knew me when I used to Quickstep between streetlights, I had this repulsive habit of striving to be something more than human. Some days the memories of this place still knock the wind right out of me and he’s in my veins the fucker.