Alleys Incandescent

"Tonight we beg,
Tonight we beg a question,
If a married man,
A married man bangs a Catholic,
And his wife dies without knowing,
Does it make him unfaithful, people?"

Channel 3. Jackie Collin was a madman. A madman who smiles at the people and say "Hey,
you're like me too, you just happen to get away with it". Polly was sure he was behind the bombings if it wasn't for the fact that he gave a speech on the 'Terrorist of Our Generations'.

"The old men are to be blamed. Have you noticed that all of the people you really despise have either facial hair or something along the lines of that? And not one of them are completely bald?"

He was speaking to rabbis. Rabbis in the terms of "children who are most likely to commit suicide and are rather Jewish at that". He hugged all of em. Made a few friends.

Jackie Collins was himself bald.

And as they say, the angel arrives amidst all the chaos with the burden of baggage.

60th Avenue was a thin demarcation. Of rats and chop suey cartons, to high rise flats with puppets who solve problems by dodging them.

*knocks on the door*
"Whozzat?"
"Er...Polly, I'm here to rent an apartment"
"Shit here, Molly? Your twin is here?"
"Fuck off"

The doorknob turned. And behind it were whispers of anger, or rather, Polly thought, of humor.
The moment a crack was visible between the thresholds, there was a shriek.

"YOUR FUCKING CAT IS AT IT AGAIN"
"er....hi"

It was as though they had forgotten that someone knocked on their door only seconds ago. A scream leads one back.

"Who do you look up to in life?"
"Er....do you always interview potential renters?"
"Is it the Man?"
"How much money do you have?"
"All the money in the world"
"That doesn't make sense"
"Well neither does the latter"


The apartment was predominated by a kitchen, with a stove as big as a small car. The saying here is that if you can't stand the heat..

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE"
"Hey Molly, let's take this into consideration, we've got a new roommate here.."

Polly smiled at the man who was being harassed out of the premise, it seems that people are always so thoughtful of her at the verge of them leaving.

And then at that moment, her mind drifted away to thoughts of the Painter.

"...I mean you're gonna need some extra hands"
"Can I use the bathroom?"

And she finds herself in a claustrophobic space.

Who killed you, and brought you back to life?
Who made the land parched, but gave it seeds to thrive?

Meanwhile, in the darker ends of the street. Jannie smokes a herb, whilst staring at the turrets in the sky.

"My time is near"

She was 15, and inappropriately, well-off as a human being. Her father, Stan had broken many ties of relations. With the grace of a politician, Stan treats everyone like dirt, but loves his daughter so. But with all of that considered, Stan wasn't campaigning anything.

"Next please"

Charisma is the very last thing they care about when it comes to banking. But Stan was murdering people's integrity without the knowledge of even the smallest of microbes.

"Smiling is charity? Then beggars should be better off at Disneyland"

Jannie walked up the fire escapes, and saw a woman staring blankly into a mirror.

"Extremely vain, aren't you?"

In her James Dean jacket, and torn denims, Jannie gave the impression of having relations with lawyers, investment bankers, parliamentary members and most importantly, fast food cashiers. In fact, she gave such a strong impression at that, that those people seem to live inside her.

"You're new here aren't you?"
"....well, not to you. No. I've heard about you"
"...OH...YOU'RE LILITH's FRIEND"
"Mmhmm, but you're not a prostitute"
"Hahah, no, no I'm not"
"But is Lilith a prostitute?"
"She buys souls, if you get what I mean"
"Oh...but"
"Hey, care to be my sister for the night?"
"..alright"

Polly didn't want to be anyone's sister at the moment. But she figured that if Jannie and Lilith are affiliated with each other, then they must know where she's heading.

"So Polly, who are you working for?"
"Huh?"
"In this world, everyone's working for someone"
"Oh, well I'm still in college.."
"Are you a Buddhist?"
"..no"
"Good"

The Painter came out of her mouth like a random tale of a pet's death. Jannie didn't look shocked though. But for the first time ever since they first met, Jannie wasn't smiling either.

"The Painter...he's the kinda person that gives hope to people who are dirt y'know. We don't want that"
"What do you mean?"
"He told you to come here, not Lilith"
"Yes...but how do you know?"
"He does that to people.."
"So you know him?"
"Everyone does. Different names go around"
"Oh God...."
"So you're on our side now at least"
"No, no I mean..."
"We take doubts and appreciate it as a value. You, Polly, are on fire"

Polly was in a state of destitute. Who was she to choose? All of those psychological thesis seemed to make more sense now, but it left her in a greater state of lost.

"I'm sick of other people making decisions for me"
"That's the superego we're looking for"
"Why does everyone here give the impression of recruiting members into their own cliques?"
"Hey, the sky is falling. You either be happy with people or pretend to be satisfied on your own"
"Why can't I stand alone then?"
"Because loneliness is an opium that deludes"

It was raining again. But now the drops of water sounded as audible as the hissing of a serpent. A serpent who is mad for the lack of hands, and bites everything he sees. A serpent, that Polly called, the Britney Spears of Mother Nature.

There was a garden on one of the rooftops. Polly only started noticing it when a lightning seemed to struck a wooden surface instead of an antenna. Jannie was asleep now. So Polly's opium is now extant, in the small island of life amongst the sea of desolation. Although death is subjective, 60th avenue wasn't and will never be anything more than a one-way street.

"Hello..?"

A familiar face appeared drifting over a broken park bench. But no...this one has wings on him.

"Hello Polly"
"I'm not gonna ask you how exactly do you know my name"
"Haha, Molly's got a strong fury in her voice, doesn't she?"
"..oh"

Gypsy negros were dancing in her cerebellum at that very moment. The pigeons on that man's shoulder seemed to send message scrolls to her brain, telling her that magic is believable. And that beggars cannot read minds.

"Hey let's step on the grass patches, the rain seems to make it sparkle doesn't it?"
"Alright"
"Take off your shoes"
"Not until you tell me your name"
"Oh...I'm Gabe"

The garden was beautiful. And not even in the relative sense. It was small, but the leakage of the hose water, like tears flowing in intervals between blades of green, made Polly feel like she was a giant over Nature's field.

But she did not feel free...

"I'm gonna give you 10 things"

The burden of power made her think about the man who she slept with just the night before.

Who is she to choose?

"You know, what's down there maybe satisfying, but when it rains, 'tis here is the last place to flood"
"Haha, good to know, but I'm staying at the apartment downstairs"
"Why don't you stay here then?"

She tried to hold her tongue from saying the silliest things

I'm not worthy of your roofless home, and the endless river that flows beneath,
But neither am I willing to suffer,
So forgive me, when there's no one else to forgive,
It does not matter, whether I'd be the last one to live

Flicker, flicker. Thomas Edison loved his failures. If only he could see 60th Avenue in the rain.

Never seemed to light up the darkness. But attractive, nonetheless.

"Fireflies hahahahahha"
"What's so funny?"