The disease of spirit

I watch her from my window,
running from corner
to corner of the street,everyday
with this effusing hue
of untutored innocence,
I have seen people get killed
on this street
more often than i have
wanted to see people get killed,
She leaves me marginalized
in my walled pathosis of vitality
where all falls are vertical,
I'm a drowning bag of dirt
and she the southern wind
that makes my chest ache,
There are days when i wish
for her to be kind and stop,
My chest is blue inside out
before the smoke even hits the ceiling,
I fear she will look up someday
and her eyes will defeat me
in the fight for purpose,
Honestly,she is the most dangerous thing
i have come across