The Muck of Human Existence

by G.T.

The rain by chance alone
settled in the comatose
terrascape, false moon surface
that were the pockmarked
streets at midnight.
Black puddles flooded the
cavernous expanses, swayed by
fresh droplets that were
absorbed into the urban abyssal
pools like the faint yellow shine
of streetlights through the fog.
Flushing between the grooves
of asphalt treads oozed canals
of piss and cheap gin, cough syrup
and the bile of addicts. The thin
blood of agitators and victims
beaten by rain pedals into a single
red river flowing into yards of
melting dog feces and bug
pesticides – peppery and bubbling,
bursting it’s hologram residue onto
the pavement where it swirls in a
roll of motor oil and sweet sweet
antifreeze. All of which spill
into the water, their molecules
expand, and kill the element,
becoming nothing but a deluge
of poison unsuitable for life.