Bastard Night

I'm sitting here now at the top of the world, the skyscraper winds are howling, and I hate you all. I've been drinking gasoline and chewing crank: just a moment ago a street preacher turned into a nazi-cyborg and rode howling into the street blur on the back of a hunchbacked panther.

What did I say.

This city is like a feral beast fist-fucking itself into the steel blur of forever night. I hear sirens and screams and the intermingling of the two, the sounds of machines fucking and obscene laughter. What the fuck. Lightning struck and it all went blurry. A crisis of vultures, regurgitating last evening's fast-food dinner. Sunset at high-noon.

Who prowls these inertial wastes, neck broken and drooling the sacrament. An ugly business, there's no getting around it. Clusterfuck fire-sale in the melting megalopolis. I hear you can buy anything cheap. For even cheaper it buys you back.

Smokestacks rise in the distance like phallic organ pipes pulsing calamity into the sky. Grids of lightwire chime across my fist and when I squeeze blood drips down.

Blood drips down, down, down. Looks like rose petals.

Fuckers.