The heat is rising
From the cracks in the pavement
And spilling on to these dusty streets.
It pollutes the air
And as you inhale,
It silently creeps into your lungs.
But no one notices
This blatant disease,
No one feels the decay.
After all,
It's just another nuisance
And we can't be bothered by such trivial affairs.
It seeps into your breath,
Like a thought, translucent,
Aiming for the heart,
Ripping it out slowly,
And the veins slowly pull;
Snapping away into red clouds of dust.
Now you feel nothing,
Not that you ever did before.
Now you see nothing,
Not that you ever looked before.
And as a poor man begs
Everyone just passes him by,
And are reminded to take out the garbage.
For all they know
He could be an angel,
Waiting to bless a kind soul
Simply for a smile,
A look of recognition,
A simple justification of his existence.
But they don't care
Because the heat has won their soul.
It has lain their hearts
Upon the sidewalks
For the dogs to gnaw on.
Soon they begin to roll,
Following the slope of the road
Toward a small grate;
They swiftly slip through it.
All the souls
Fall in the water
And begin to boil
In their own remorse.
This creates a heat
Which turns to a haze
And soon it needs the sunlight.
With groping fingers it searches the cracks,
In pursuit of the sweet oxygen
Just outside.
And just as swiflty as before
It slips back onto the streets
But is quickly inhaled;
It sees a feast.
We create the heat. |