Vines grow wild here
Twisting into windows
Over the rooftops
And through the dreams of the city dwellers
Who know nothing other than these vines
That suck the air dry of its vitality
And the life from their souls.
For, to them, nothing is out of the ordinary
To gasp for their next breath
To sleep fitful nights
Of stifled nightmares
To live days bound in these organic chains.
For this is the city t...