New Orleans

I long for the place

In an unnatural, yet organic way

I adore it for it’s despicable past

I love it for it’s trash

I miss every con-artist and filthy bird

I long for the sunburn

I long for the natural disaster

I want to revel in the supposed sin the town provokes

It’s such a profound and pure love for every little crevice of the place

Despite all sense I have and every preoccupation

I am drawn

And it is my muse

And someday I am bound to return

What I fear is that it will possess me

And I will melt into it’s blackened hands

And stay there forever

Away from my cold cultured place of origin

But I won’t care because I just might be happy

I think it might be worth a risk