Despair

I wander into night like a stain into a wedding dress, not seeing the disaster I am for the black velvet around me. Hairy voices of monsters dissecting my name echo against the fur lined dark. Escapism is a red and blue striped slide from the playground of my private wallowing well down to the depths of whatever a red light district calls despair. I walk the greedy streets in stilettos, my footsteps Morse code for sadness along the listless lane.