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.