I have no identity.
A chameleon eating insects?
Small vermin infesting the lush forest?
Hidden but biting?
Only a piece. That's all. Just a fucking piece.
And away they run.

The forest is not me.
I am an urban blight.
Driven from cesspools too vile to nourish Eden.

The Blood of Eden.

I am the blood of Eden.
Unneeded.
Unwanted.

Forgotten.
Left to spill onto the parched and arid earth.
To pool and bake in the sun.
To reflect only dreams.

Only wants.
Only desires.
Without pain of its own.
Without plans.
No future.
No past.
Just rotting now. Effervescence.
Slowly evaporating.
A miasma of false promises and hope.

Boil in the clean sun.

Forever tied to the filth of the hard sidewalks.
Never clean.
Lost in the shadows cast by fluttering street lamps.
That movement in the dark which makes you hurry.
Always looking. Always sneaking. Always lusting.
Forever apart.
Sliding across the glittery sidewalk at night like a slow wave...
Blood.

I am the Blood of Eden.
Cast out.
Seeping into the sand.
Lost from Eve.
Scorned by Adam.
I am. I never was. I shall not be. I am not.

I am the waste and effluvium of dreams.
The part of the apple cast aside.
The core.
No seeds to replenish the earth.
Foolish and vile and dangerous.
A sucking sound in the night when all else is quiet.

Step over me. Avoid me. Leave that stench behind.
Count the sons and daughters of Eden.
See not what is left behind.
It has not the warmth of blood.
Only its vile liquidity.
Sticky and sweet.
A forbidden treat.
Touch it not.

The Blood of Eden.