it's a broken city haunted by broken ghosts, public transport groans and creaks with age as i ride along in the strange grubby underground tubes conceived in the victorian age and abandoned by future generations, it's fast but filthy. makes we wonder why they clean the emissions above ground with u-lez schemes and scams and yet the underground is polluted and filthy, worse than any cigarette smoke. and on the jubilee line as you get past finchley the horrific ear shattering noise that pierces all known audio levels. most people are attached to screens, ipads or phones, there's a disconnection i never see anywhere else and i wonder if it's a desperate need to escape. 

my fellow passengers are part of the zombie horde, skin disorders and rotten teeth, eyes are filled with invisible rats that are bigger than cats and rabid dogs, the sewers overflow down the concrete cracks and a population of the undead drink far to much from anothers cup and chain smoke rothmans cigarettes until they are buried in ash. 

i'm fighting the contagion, i don't want to fade here, i want to burn bright, i feel the tendrils of depression and anxiety, the clutches of the psychic energy off nine million undead.