south side.


there’s a small parcel of the South Side where we’ve been left for dead.
i like it this way.
trying to piece together words and phrases from abandoned traces of life.
mostly melted posters. pulp.
worn down factory brick. water and clay.

‘if you have a problem please call.’
in this orphaned corner of urban overpopulation. we were left this way.

unanswered prayers are hanging themselves in the trees.
there’s nothing else left to do here.

across this curdled river. the wind and i are arguing.
i like it this way.