It is summer in Columbia, the harsh rays beat down on the city showing no mercy. Battered old building’s line the streets, where once stood colourful lively homes now lie grey concrete caves. The only splash of colour coming from the lurid graffiti and the littered streets injected with dodgy paraphernalia. Lining the alleyways are disheartened stares from men and women, their drug-addled bodies as thin as pins, their cheekbones jutting out through pallid skin. These streets were the home for the homeless and money printers for the rich.

Look. These streets are empty, all emotion is drained. The atmosphere has died leaving nothing but a skeleton stripped of its own skin and flesh. Screams echo through the passage, like chattering spirits from the past. Scuttling rats creep round deserted dumpsters eating the city alive. All that now remains are the concrete structures themselves, no glass, no wood, nothing that could bring the body of the city back to life. The people have retreated to pathetic cardboard blankets, their havens surrounded by pills and powder feeding their starving addictions. This place has overdosed. Drugs, money and greed have consumed it so much, it’s now left with nothing. It’s been stripped of its own humanity. Where once was a place of happiness, now lies a place of death and destruction.

It is late afternoon in the city and out come the monsters. Lurking around and speaking in low tones their eyes are like the devil, welcoming the innocent to hell. Hunger bites fueling the uncontrollable urge, eyes meet again speaking the words the mouth can’t. Cast in the shadows their deal goes unseen, swapping dirty money for dirty habits. His footsteps hurry along keeping it concealed, but the darting eyes of men and women covering every doorway make it impossible. The clock ticks over and the sun starts to set. Hookers start to stalk the streets in their skimpy outfits and high boots looking for work, craving the attention from anyone in sight. Dreary light from the windows above draws to a close, as the innocent lock themselves up for the night. 

Listen, the desolated streets echo footsteps from people of the past. Drug launders, sex traffickers, murderers and serial killers, their secrets buried under the cobblestone path. Perished police tape still lingers behind dumpsters leaving evidence of the covered up crimes. Between the two walls, the pathway seems narrower as the lifeless light leaks from the main road. Door after door the destination seems to be drawing closer. And it’s just as well. His mind is becoming blurred and the withdrawals are kicking in, he is starting to lose touch of everything around him. The only thought on his mind now is the substances weighing down his pockets. 

And soon you will walk through the front door. The concrete hollow room reminds you of what you have lost, you are alone now. The only comfort you have are the ghosts dancing blissfully in the shadows. When the educated in society could have foreseen that the poverty into which you were born, then you would be rendered. Traumatised and desperate, struggling for yourself and your family to survive. You are a baby, a pure newborn, your inner self fighting for good in the wrong, but no matter how hard you fight the urge will always win. Your pulsating vein will try harder and harder to hide but the monster inside you will take over. The thin needle will probe through your flesh for the very last time. Your body will finally give up. And now all that is left is your rotting skeleton adding to the pile that the city has consumed.