I Warm Myself Near the Trashcan Fire
Oh how cold;
...the cold and lonely, watch it snow and bask in it as I warm myself by the trashcan fire.
Oh the grey claustrophobia that exists in alley ways. The frigid snow that falls is the
only thing that breaks the haze, and I gaze upon it's majesty as I warm myself by the
trashcan fire.
You walk on by, I am invisible. The specter haunting cold and lonely in the midnight of
the concrete walk. You cavort in the snow and feast yourself in motion as my tongue
attempts to taste the smell. All I can see is the narrow crack between buildings and the
snow which casts the eeriness about the corridors. The corridors which are the window from
which I look into a world I am no longer a part of. Watching people go hand in hand in
cavalier happiness, spreading laughter throughout the eve. Yet I can only gaze up at the
snow as I warm myself by the trashcan fire.
Roaches scurry into my abyss with every motion. Some people shriek as the roaches scurry
by, I feel akin to them and share my meal. A cup of ramen I bought with a dollar someone
dropped. I rarely leave the claustrophobia, for lack of a place to go. Yet only in the
snow, do I long for a place to go. However I blank my mind and eat the cold soup as I
warm myself by the trashcan fire.
Oh how cold the cold and lonely is, the solitude of inhumanity and apathy, the abandonment
of a society which leads to starvation and frostbite as I warm myself near the trashcan fire.
Like the roaches, I have felt a boot a stepping and crushing me beneath it's soles. Where
snowflakes mingle with my jawbone as it scrapes the ground from impact's woes. So I live
inside claustrophobia and mingle with roaches as I warm myself near the trashcan fire.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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