Trap House

The stench of piss, vomit, and feces immediately hit my senses as I step over dirty syringes and white, powdered filled baggies the imperfect combination of junkie and overdose the drool dripping out of their mouths and the sight of eyeballs rolling into the back of heads I see the hookers who parade around in their birthday suits who's bodies resembled that of a skeletal corpse, and of course who can forget the music that shakes the exterior of a cracking foundation half-dead bodies moving and grooving to the sound of a repetitive beat but the irony out of all this of course is the transaction..... the meeting between men the sell of deadly prescriptions and the lost of finances only to repeat its licentious cycle again but this is nothing.... it's actually quite normal in the stomping grounds of the ghetto....