independence, mo

the side of your old high school building has been infected with the chromatic sheen of gentrification. it looks like an alien parasite on the side of an internally crumbling brick building.

what sort of infection has settled into your bones?

down the street from your childhood home, there used to be a house where people could purchase license plates, identification, and murder. the city leveled that little black market, to make way for white new residents.

what will become of your own dilapidated home?

the air still smells like tea in the summer, though the plant closed long ago. those still looking for jobs moved to the east side. their bosses promised it was just a hiatus; but blue trucks drive down suburban streets, and the employees migrate to the forest.

what do your morals say about selling out of suffering?

the businesses you knew, owned by a friend of a friend have long since been bought out. the century old neighborhoods now are home to white-washed angular apartment buildings. and as you stand under the bright blue awning of your new grocery store, you must ask yourself;

what is complacency, and what is necessary change?