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.