105 Predation Blvd
On the avenue of dirty sidewalks and abandoned stores,
Invasive smells of rotting piss live on First Street.
Where hungry men let their morality rot senselessly
and dare to use this block as their hunting ground.
Every morning, I walk a linear path to somewhere
On an unparalleled, decaying terrain.
I start my stroll with a long sigh,
Attempt to exhale the doubts in my mind
that weigh down each footstep like gravity.
Dream of escape routes that take me to safety,
Repress the memories of predators
that threaten to love every inch of me.
Safely, my mind becomes my own escape route.
The secret tunnel of a vague, lawless daydream
Subtly overlooking a hell-bound tightrope.
But, somehow the piercing car alarms
Secure my feet on the ground and force
A watchful eye to the cemented nightmare
That robs me of my naivety time and time again...
On rocky roads, I painfully recall the
Predators that pounce on the fragile.
When innocent prey appears from a distance,
Some slow down their cars to follow,
Others call me anything but my name.
Many pierce my ears with the sudden sound
Of a raging car alarm on the prowl,
Ready to point their lustful trigger
Through the inside of my clothes.
—When in the event of a battle,
Soldiers must prepare their armor;
Lock their guns and secure their ammo;
Because without caution,
their bodies will decay among the masses—
On the weekday stroll I couldn’t avoid,
I attempt to secure my uncertain fate.
With my own set of weapons,
Cling onto tiny bottles of pepper spray;
Plan a secret escape route;
That will somehow lead me to safety.
I stare at the empty blocks
To await the uncertainty of my own fate.
But in present time,
I march on with the colorful sounds
Of my own harmony
Distract myself from carnivorous streets
With soothing sounds of a symphony