I'll try posting more in the coming weeks.
constructive criticism is always helpful.
A City’s Thick-Veined Hand in Collapse
The run-down ruins of a ghost’s abandoned metropolis
erupt from the concrete-stained surface of the earth.
Where legs once stampeded from house to home, from home to work
and back again
by misguided people lost in the world they knew.
From here, the souls’ feet are maggots of time,
peaking their ugly heads through the structures they created.
They are long since abandoned, the lucky ones
boarded, saved from Saturn’s thick-veined hands, the unlucky ones
bear the scars of his abuse, shattered windows,
with sick remains stretching out to slash a misguided arm
reaching in to take the only remaining memory of another.
Beyond the offices lie the beds their cars
once occupied throughout the light of day, but now
only rusted metal shards stare back at the onlookers.
Cars a far-away memory now, or simply a box which contains
far-away memories.
Upon the rust and dust, the great conquerer!
In cahoots with time, nature took her toll
and a small signature of her work grows upon those enslaved.
A thin and sickly layer covers all, a moss hardly fit
to cover even the smallest of rocks, simply an icing
to their work to destroy.
