You march through an inner city smog,
Beating a path through the fog and the rain
And the damp air
This city is sweating
Weeping beaded moisture with a salty Aftertaste
Drying out your lips, your eyes,
Sticking to you as your skin shrivells
The stench of the liffey permeates the air
And fills your nostrils,
Making the air heavy and uncomfortable in
Your chest
This city is sweating,
Filling its pores with the waste of its people
Exuding it's scum and it's dirt and its filth
Spilling it onto its wasted weary masses.
The streets meander like dirty veins
Concrete plasma,
Thick and undulating with the throng of the Hordes.
This city is sweating
This city is groaning
This city is pulsating
Loudly screaming into a bright grey void
A vastness of stone and steel
Hard and unforgiving
The unrelenting battery of a city in progress
This city is sweating.
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