I sit patiently waiting to spoil. The rays bouncing off emerald leaves Cast tiny shadow displays that synchronize with blades of grass dancing in the summer wind.
They're coming.
Laughter is silenced by the impending crash and rumble of mechanical horses travelling down their rails.
The cries overpower the ruckus. Bodies surround me like a zombie honing in on its next fleshly morsel. Yet I feel unthreatened.
But I feel alone. Outnumbered. Their joy draws out the sadness in me, their fear my anger. I am as empty as my bank account. Sheltered by the elements of social interaction.
Black bars all around me It's a prison with tiny loopholes. Only the intelligent may escape.
Dead trees are responsible for holding the weight of my body, yet I thank them by stirring its slumber and passing gas on the twigs below me.
I hope they forgive me. For I have nothing materialstic to give but my heart, body, and soul. Maybe sanity if that is still left.
I require the basics. No more, no less. But even that is too much to ask. Where has humanity gone? Stripped of its original nature and replaced by dollar signs, profits, greed. Take me back to the simpler times So I can go back and read.
My life is no good here. Let me spoil.
Written sitting in Wicker Park under a tree. Waiting for a friend to let me into their home, so I could shower and eat. I was homeless.