The city is a cemetery.
Broken windows.
Sullen buildings.
They cast shadows across the landscape like a thousand forgotten headstones.
And my heart is like a dead bird.
A victim of a hit and run.
Soft feathers.
And blood, and bone.
Left on the road side to rot.
Can't you see?
Lives lost.
The only difference between me and the crazy man who stalks Main street, pushing a shopping cart and talking to the sky is, he found himself on a park bench, and I found myself at the bottom of a prescription bottle.
Death is not the greatest loss.
The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we're still alive.
An abandonment on the Earth.
