Random Blurb

Among the town tha I've known so well and the streets littered with abandoned factories orange and golden brown, is the one that passes under the train. The place where I once hung out and read a book while the train's wheels would squeel and pop as they rolled over the overpassing bridge. an overpass; overpassing a town that once had a name. The name was Rocket Town; now only known as Rust City, if known at all. Rust City, not an officail name, still justly earned from the unkept factories and neighborhoods that for five long years, have been abandoned. In the last day of the mass exodus that started five years before, that's now a decade ago, the factories were abandoned so fast that some of the oil factories could be smelt working for three days after until exhaustion.
I go there every so often to see the side of town that was delved into grayscale by the smog of newer plants down wind, in the newer community. The canals run black with the reminents of desprate factory owners, shortcutting and getting lazy, trying to keep up with competition in the newer city. Here, under the plant by the canal, I wait for someone to take me away: Away out of this world, away out from under this oppressive spirit. Here, I wait, while listening to the faint echoes of regretful souls "Woe are we that made this land. Woe are we that made this Concrete Land!" The wind blows cold and slow here, the winters bring down blackend soit. Concrete City... this is my childhood: a past that's all but withered up, and a father that won't let the working memories and home go.Where is my future now?
I sit under an overpass, a train over me passing with its' guest 'father time.' Here I read a book until the sun sets and wait.