The Distributor

I’m out here, in these streets, I’m the pavement the asphalt the bricks and the oil,
I’m the steaming sewer the rotting garbage in the storm drain,
I’m the heat coming From the exhaust pipe of societies car,
I’m the vein, the pulse of daily activity, without me you all die,
I make it all possible, but I’m an eyesore,
There is no life in me, there is no life on me,
My grace is the destruction of nature, my hate is the creation of civilization,
My mind is the cause yet the work is my order. I am these streets.
I’m clear like a glass of water, but as stern as the voice of a father,
I have no fear, no love, no compassion, just logic,
I capitalize when you make mistakes, my mistakes only make more profit,
This is my genius.
Pain makes you travel, fear makes you run, love makes you dash, and money makes you come.
I am the vessel of all of these, the trail of inevitability.
You will always take me.
So despise the image, loath the idea, but know this, and know it true
I will always exist.