Homeless

blue rings around his eyes and tears in every inch of his clothing. The scrapes on his dirty skin are as black as night and are most likey caused by the kick and shoving of the streets. His vision has blurred with veins broken and snapped inside of him. Even the tiniest of vessels have wrapped themselves around his pounding brain and squeezed tightly the trash and profanity thrown at him. His long, dingy hair has caused knots of food to gather all around him like the dumpsters he spends his long nights in. The backs of restaurants, the heat vents on the corner, the occasional one dollar. None of these things could save the man inside of him. They can only save whats left of his working body. The fast beam of lights flying by making him dizzy and sick. The height of buildings reaching to the place he desires to be the most. He dreams to climb one and reach his hand out to the sky. Hoping to be taken away from everything he feared as it was all falling apart. He sees the world for what it is. Because he is living it through the eyes of pain. Because there is nothing left to lose. There is nothing left to gain. There is nothing. There is nothing but a man, and a dumpster in an ally, and the heat vent that gives him the only warm feeling as he sleeps through the night hoping to wake up a new man, not broken.