Portland

My eyes run like skis across moguls of tumors donned by a sympathy predator, a cancerous cat with a sorrowful panhandling act decorating this city in its freak style fashion. A metropolitan insane asylum, Portland is a city of whisper and babblers, mumbling and schizophrenic arguing. A easy world to judge as something differently and unseemly. Something just a little ugly and a lot of noisy. It's easy only to pretend that I'm not a freak too, but I hear the same voices they do and all I can pray is that the voices in my head make me laugh more often than they make me cry.