the buildings tend to lurch like monsters as the shrinking sun says goodnight. i become weary with each broken pane of glass i see, tattered on window sills of once so-lovely creations. if those buildings could talk would they beg me to live inside of them, to keep my secrets in their walls. would they not only house me, but love me, as i do admire them in the rise and fall of the ever changing sun. the buildings here, look like vikings, strong and spent. i see the love they have thrown away in order to rise tall. the buildings here tend to lurch like monsters,
and i see my reflection in the broken glass of their structures.