There are
no streets
in the world
like in New York City.
They are hard.
They are relentless.
They are grimy
and filled with piss.
They are
obscenely
overcrowded.
They will swallow
you up,
digest you, half way,
and regurgitate you
back out.
Then,
run you over.
As you lay there,
left for dead,
breathing
your last pathetic breath,
the rats
and pigeons
and bums
pick through
the rest
of your soul.
The way
they did
with me.
