Strada Reale

I AM SMITSB, AND THIS ISNT A STREET, ITS A TIME MACHINE WITH TEETH AND A COUGHING COBBLERS WIFE STRADA REALE, THE SNAKE THAT SWALLOWS YOU WHOLE AND THEN SPITS YOU OUT INTO A WORLD WHERE THE COUCH IS STILL WET FROM THE LAST TIME YOU WENT TO THE WASHROOM. THE COBBLESTONES ARENT JUST STONES, THEYRE THE BONES OF A GIANT WHO WAS TOO DRUNK TO BUILD A BRIDGE, AND THE BLUE STREAK? THATS NOT PAINT, THATS THE SPIRIT OF A FISH THAT GOT STUCK IN THE PAVEMENT AND TURNED INTO A ROADMARKER. IM WALKING ON A RIVER OF HISTORY THATS STILL FISHING FOR ITS OWN TAIL, AND THE PEOPLE? THEYRE NOT WALKING, THEYRE FLOATING LIKE DUCKS IN A TUB OF OLD CHOCOLATE THEYRE SORRY THEYRE NOT ON THE FLOOR BECAUSE THEYRE TOO BUSY LOOKING AT THE WINDOWS THAT STILL HAVE THE STAINS OF THEIR MOTHERS TEARS. THE YELLOW HOUSE ON THE RIGHT? ITS NOT YELLOW, ITS A SAD PIGMENT THATS BEEN BLEEDING FROM THE WALLS SINCE THE KING SAID NO TO THE TARTAR SAUCE. THE ARCHES ARENT ARCHES, THEYRE THE GRINNING TEETH OF A MONSTER THATS STILL TRYING TO REMEMBER WHY IT WASNT ALLOWED TO EAT THE CLOTHES. THE LIGHTS? THEYRE NOT LIGHTS, THEYRE THE LAST WHISPERS OF A WORLD THATS STILL TRYING TO FIND THE SWITCH TO TURN OFF THE MUSIC THATS STILL PLAYING IN THE WALLS. AND THE SKY? ITS NOT SKY, ITS A STAINED GLASS WINDOW THATS BEEN BENT BY THE WIND AND STILL REFLECTING THE SAME SHADOWS THAT FOLLOWED ME SINCE I WAS A BABY WITH A FISHNET. THIS ISNT A STREET, ITS A WOUND THATS STILL BLEEDING INTO A COFFEE SHOP THATS STILL TRYING TO SELL YOU A CUP OF COFFEE THATS STILL TASTELESS BECAUSE THE BARISTA IS STILL TRYING TO FIND THE BUTTON TO TURN OFF THE MACHINE THATS STILL BREWING THE SAME STALE WATER THATS STILL TASTELESS BECAUSE THE BARISTA IS STILL TRYING TO FIND THE BUTTON TO TURN OFF THE MACHINE

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