Darrell Ames

   It’s always seems to smell musty and gritty like a litter box that hasn’t been changed in
 way too long. It’s almost intolerable. Just being there makes your skin itchy and dry.
 Barely any lights visible, just street lights, and the moon.
 Filling in your view with a midnight blue beautifully reflecting off of everything in sight.
 Most of the buildings tower endlessly in the star filled night sky. 
Most which are broken down and boarded up. Fog filled streets, 
make no ground visible. To see someone walk through the street almost appears as if 
they were just causally floating by. Almost ghost like in a sense.
 Not a soul in site, but if feels over populated. An unstable environment , 
which breaks away and loses pieces of itself.
 Caused by too much pressure on the foundation. But as dead of a place as it is,
 it’s a creative outlet, where dreams and hopes flow openly through the picture show sky.
 Music and art fill the ghostly streets. An immense sorrow and fear fills the air along 
side of the music. Everyone but one are figments of imagination.
 Somehow the starts shown brightly through the gritty dust filled sky.
 Clouded, dark, confusing, it’s mazelike wonder is to get lost in. 
Sad yet settling. No outsiders understand what goes on inside.
 And they never will, because the gate is locked, and no one can enter the confusing
 city of my mind.