The Piecemeal Man (abmann) wrote,
The Piecemeal Man

  • Mood:

Urban Decay

I've settled on my muse. Happiness,
love and the like hold no value
they are fleeting as dreams.
The death force, represented artistically
is the only current. Buildings,
anointed in their prime with love
and affection, that have lost luster -
forgotten and been forgotten - these are
constants. Created for chimerical glory
when dignity passes to the newest
taking with it the solid foundation
of yesterday; but rust never sleeps.

Urban decay, a glimpse
of apocalypse and precursor to the sprawling
megalopolis so many revere, is my architect
and reclusive siren. She inspires
with klaxon voice so strong it shakes
my foundation to the ground. This is where
it started. Rubble is the basis
from which all things spring.
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