Weeds wrapped around the rusty trolley br rain soaked receipt folds itself upon the grill. br A mini mole hill of brain draining empty beer cans br shadow the junkies discarded needles. br A carnage has happened here br a grave of chicken bones devoured br of all chrispy specially seasoned flesh. br A babies shoe bursting with insects br they will never grow to big for it. br A thousand fag buts smoked down to the filter br to many worries to little time. br The gardens on T.V never look like this br they thrive with life. br Flowers dance in the pure air. br Grass so green it looks alien. br I am constantly being told to cut the grass br of which all the citys shit lay upon. br I have chosen not to rather let the weeds br grow sky high and hide what I cannot face.