TWENTY YEARS OLD AND NEW TO THE WORLD

The hum of the city is easy to tune out if you've lived here long enough.

ciggratte smoke a familiar taste.

raw, scared, human

we all want to be art.

but here, we all melt out of existence.

today, i walked across wet pavements.

twenty others followed

forty- fifty- seventy-five

here, we are nameless

here, we are lights and sounds and static.

twenty years old and new to the world

lost.  carefree.  forgotten.  here.

we choose to be reborn on the daily.

here on the trails, 3 am, phone clink-

 we are home