lostNfound
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Mar 20, 2005
- Messages
- 13,675
The only person in the street without the cover of an umbrella.
Coffee cup in hand, minus a lid standing at the zebra crossing.
I sip my coffee and wonder if acid rain is doing just as much damage to me as the marlboro in my other hand.
It feels like bullets, only they don't penetrate my flesh in the manner of a wound but the water soaks through to my bones and I feel the chill.
The warmth of the coffee is temporary and the nicotine unordinarily makes my head spin.
I have great expectations of the rain to wash everything away and make things new again but when it sets in like this, the waterfall doesn't flow and my sense of smell kicks into overdrive as it does with pungency. Rubbish on the street to the shoes on my feet to the rookie cop on the beat, the musky smell of all things wet is all I can thick of.
My brain knows what to do and I draw on my cigarette and sip on my coffee, momentarily auto pilot saved me from retching once again the coffe overpowers the stench and the nicotine slowly destroys all sense of taste again.
I feel dull again, I really must get moving.
Apparently and metaphorically I wonder if the grass is greener over the side.
I scan the streetscape for anything green, anything with life but I see anything through the heavy rain so I move my feet.
Across the street.
Another Street.
Another zebra crossing.
I drop my cigarette and swill whats left in my coffee cup.
This city isn't right.
Without any light.
I really wish the clouds would lift and let the sun shine through.
But wishing never got anyone anywhere and I don't know if this city wants to dry up.
I think it dried up long ago and maybe I just noticed how it should or how it once was I don't know.
Sometimes it takes more than crossing the street.
I wonder about this city.
Coffee cup in hand, minus a lid standing at the zebra crossing.
I sip my coffee and wonder if acid rain is doing just as much damage to me as the marlboro in my other hand.
It feels like bullets, only they don't penetrate my flesh in the manner of a wound but the water soaks through to my bones and I feel the chill.
The warmth of the coffee is temporary and the nicotine unordinarily makes my head spin.
I have great expectations of the rain to wash everything away and make things new again but when it sets in like this, the waterfall doesn't flow and my sense of smell kicks into overdrive as it does with pungency. Rubbish on the street to the shoes on my feet to the rookie cop on the beat, the musky smell of all things wet is all I can thick of.
My brain knows what to do and I draw on my cigarette and sip on my coffee, momentarily auto pilot saved me from retching once again the coffe overpowers the stench and the nicotine slowly destroys all sense of taste again.
I feel dull again, I really must get moving.
Apparently and metaphorically I wonder if the grass is greener over the side.
I scan the streetscape for anything green, anything with life but I see anything through the heavy rain so I move my feet.
Across the street.
Another Street.
Another zebra crossing.
I drop my cigarette and swill whats left in my coffee cup.
This city isn't right.
Without any light.
I really wish the clouds would lift and let the sun shine through.
But wishing never got anyone anywhere and I don't know if this city wants to dry up.
I think it dried up long ago and maybe I just noticed how it should or how it once was I don't know.
Sometimes it takes more than crossing the street.
I wonder about this city.
