Children dream of becoming astronauts, and teenagers yearn to be either heroin addicts or sex fiends. Adults have nightmares. Fiendishly wild picture shows that depict landscapes too real to swallow. The curtains never close on these shows, and the audience is bound to their seats; Not by whips, chains, and locks but rather by disillusionment, feeble optimism, and a lack of strength both mental and physical. In a general sense, people will always do the wrong thing. They eat what they're not supposed, drink at inappropriate hours, and masturbate in public.
Now, this isn't to say that I'm judge, jury, and executioner but the blindest old bat can tell you things are off. I exist in the space between your fears and your undying lust. I'm watching you like a fucking vulture. My vigil will never end, similar to my cigarette supply, and as humanity continues to veer off its proper course I will always have something to write about.
Pretty girls are nice, but they don't make up for the fact that I was robbed twice in the last week. These events have forced me to pursue the strange. There's no ill will towards the Chinaman who stole my dinner, but that meth head deserves to be hit by a bus. However, that may be too gracious. The proper punishment for that piece of slime* is still undecided. The city is your ex-girlfriend. It's not so bad on paper, but it's a bitch and a half up close.*(Editor's Note: Several words and phrases in this paragraph were changed because the writer's original choice of words was deemed too vulgar. If the public demands the unedited text then it can be made available.)
Have you ever seen a hurricane? Raging water, overturning planks of wood and swallowing humanity. It's happened before, and it's about to hit inland. I am bruised, bloodied, and beaten on the inside and an escape looms, but my work isn't done here. I patronize the coffee shacks and juke joints, and don't ride the subway enough. My aim is true, but I get my kicks from chaos. The foundation is shaky, and the structure needs to fall.