Sometimes this is too much. Sensory overload.
Urban grime. Heels, skirts, shirts, beer, laughing. Open rubbish bags are picked over by rats. Music thuds from the bars. Traffic honks and screeches. It's so bright. Headlights, neon lights, streetlights. Noise and light is everywhere. Everything is moving. The air smells like fumes and puke. Loud. I want to fill myself up with this filth. Roll around in it. Cover every part of me in it. It is alive, breathing the stale air. It carries me and I'm floating, connected to every light and sound and smell. The people are a blur, the faces are all the same, face paint, war paint. Colours and sounds. My sense are crying out for mercy. I can feel everything, see everything, hear everything. I am apart from it all, yet at the centre of it.
Urban grime. Heels, skirts, shirts, beer, laughing. Open rubbish bags are picked over by rats. Music thuds from the bars. Traffic honks and screeches. It's so bright. Headlights, neon lights, streetlights. Noise and light is everywhere. Everything is moving. The air smells like fumes and puke. Loud. I want to fill myself up with this filth. Roll around in it. Cover every part of me in it. It is alive, breathing the stale air. It carries me and I'm floating, connected to every light and sound and smell. The people are a blur, the faces are all the same, face paint, war paint. Colours and sounds. My sense are crying out for mercy. I can feel everything, see everything, hear everything. I am apart from it all, yet at the centre of it.