Harassed by desperation

I walk down the street and eyes follow me everywhere. Every step that I take is reinforced by a blink or a wink that passes from man to man thinking that they are praising me with their leers and smirks. Unashamed among the footsteps of the ants, blindly tracking the curves in my figure, mapping myself in front of themselves, placing their claws on my neck taking me into a clouded haze where I only drown lower and deeper until I disappear. I walk down the street where cars are growling and fires are burning brightly, feeling their eyes clinging to me; they are echoing deafeningly, beating until everything else disappears. In a trapped maze trying to make my way through and I feel impatient dirty fingers slide down my support. Quick prodding poking, hurried desperate invasion that stops me in my tracks for a second but they have disappeared already. I walk down the street only to be explored by unwanted surveyors that I cannot grasp in retaliation. I walk down the street only to be harassed by cowardice and desperation that I definitely don't need walking down with me.