Loiter

 

She didn’t care much for the dreamers sprawled outside her home. They looked so peaceful with their heads between their driving wheels, so happy with their faces rubbing against the dog shit covered ground. How easily they slept with all their daily stress evaporating. She wondered if she too would fall asleep if she stepped outside, but she did not. Not even a freak event could get her to sleep, and so she spent the morning scribbling obscenities on their flesh, searching pockets for cash, and trying to get some sleep of her own, at home and in the road.

Morning Commute

He arrived at the bank at 8.45am, clutching a series of filled change bags. Once he’d arrived in front of the queue, he realised that there wasn’t much of a queue at all. Instead he saw a street full of bodies lying on the floor, lying in the road, lying by the door. For a minute he considered a massacre, but he began to notice the sound of snoring, the rising of snot bubbles, and the turning and scratching of backs. That morning the world was still asleep, and he watched the dreamers, simply wondering how much change he had.

 

I’ll Always Like Those Moods…

 

When you can just fade out within the fog. Like at the top of a pylon Like the bottom of a lake. 

Loose Change

One pence, two pence, five pence, ten. These are the coins that you never pick up, they are best left for someone who really needs them, after-all. But twenty pence, pick that off the floor whilst no-one’s looking. Fifty pence, it doesn’t matter if anyone’s looking. And a pound… well, you scramble. That’s what I did when I saw the coin sparkling from the sun on the concrete ground, as if winking at me. I dropped to its level, and crawled up to it before anyone else could claim it. A homeless man watched me scoop it up, too slow.

Sometimes

Sometimes

It’s not so bad to cry

Sometimes

It’s not so bad to try

Sometimes

It’s not so bad to lie

Sometimes

Only sometimes

Maybe four times a day

Or eight days a week.

That’s fine.