Its quite here,aghh but its often quite for me.
I am not afraid .
I am accustomed to this whispering environment.
The darkness on the other hand is mildly freighting .
There is some light though breaking through the boards.
Its casts a dusty hue , still its not enough for complete vision.
My mind is alive deciphering the scents of this place .
It is old here, a lost centuries wood sits rotting.
Long gone horses mixes with mildew.
There is a mystery here, lingering at the edge of the sunlight.
I can vaguely make out the shadowy out line of a rusty meat hook .
I could stay here all afternoon, let my cheek rest on its humble flooring.
Alas , I collect myself for the return to the life of a madman.
In the mayhem that is this city I stand alone among thousands.
I wait on the second stair, half of me in and half out.
The brightness is blinding makes me blink.
I see the cars though ,enveloped in a hazy fog .
I faintly hear the voices of two random females .
They speak in a familiar ghetto tongue.