Underworld

I looked through a window.  The women I saw there are like rats of the underworld. Rebel gothic. They are dark. I do not think they really know what it is they want other than get high – do drugs and numb themselves to a pain they do not know how to cure. Punks – Zombie Rebels. The underworld life. Maybe all they want is to be loved and acepted for who they are from the group above them, even though they are so different. It is as if they are missing something. They are so hungry – literally hungry – but are not able to eat. Nothing in the world will ever fill them up.