Buschwick Houses.

Day 352 of 365

I wrote something out this morning but I felt it was too repetitive and obvious.
So I deleted it and pasted it into my journal.
Highlighted in red.
Like my neighborhood.
Trash filled streets.
With a whistling hand thrown out the window.
There is nothing that binds us closer than blood.
Still I feel so distant from some of these people.
Now less empathetic than before
until I looked and saw the red bag by my side too.