anaklusmos
there are some cities, he says, full of women with their pantyhose tugged beneath their knees and they're on those knees with their mouths crammed chockful of their sins and their hatred. and they don't choose to be this way, he emphasises and he shouts, and she nods and stares at him, mesmerised.
and there are cities, he states, that have their sins splayed out on the people who fill and flood the streets and the poisoned air with their voices and their noises and their ECHOES that resonate bounce crash onto our waiting eardrums.
AND THERE ARE CITIES, he shouts, THAT DON'T EVEN SIN BECAUSE THEY'RE SO FUCKING INNOCENT AND SO FUCKING PERFECT AND IN THE EYES OF THE WORLD, I AM A SINNER JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO SAVE SOME PEOPLE. and he scratches his hatred onto the walls of his concrete cell and his fingernails snap but he doesn't scream he just stares at his bleeding fingers while she gasps and rushessnatchesrummages for a plaster and he just stares at his bleeding fingers
because in the eyes of the world in his eyes in her eyes in their eyes he is a sinner because in their city there is no such thing as saving another.
and there are cities he whispers haggard broken dead dying doomed where the people cannot help each other because they are selfish and too absorbed by themselves or else they will die and because i tried i will die now. his voice is broken crying dying
she nods and she tries for a smile and she hands him his plaster which he does not take and will not use and she makes another shaky note with her shaky hand and she stands and she moves over to the door just out of his reach behind the bars and she smiles and she nods and she leaves the room.
and in this city he will die and in this city he will find his revenge and his solace.