please be safe

nine feet above our pebbled, cemented, roofless vestibule where we used to play and dress up as superficial heroes in expensive colored rags hang vines that struggle to disentangle itself from the smoke of sin and hypocrisy, a testament to desperation. at this hour our nighttime friend in its crescent dress and a rusted face glides behind our backs in a slow-motion waltz. its time is almost up. the streets are alive with the occasional buzzing of engines and incessant prowling of creeps craving sex and blood while the rest of the city sleeps. we surround ourselves with locked doors and curtained windows, but our residences are matchboxes built on a thin layer of crust floating above nothing. when were we ever safe? i’m finding it hard to sleep, estoy perdido.

it’s a dirty world. i am worried as shit.