The city breeds
Disease
These lonely streets crowded with strangers
The noise of technology
Deafening
=
I have peered into every shop window
Starving, admiring
Lingering and counting my desperate budget
My bags always empty
On return
=
I measure greed by necessity
I am a collector of idols
Nowhere in my closest is my identity exposed
My soul is not scattered across my possessions either
(Perhaps in my books)
They are but a black hole
Drawing in more, revealing nothing
mindlovemisery 