Hunger. Grip constricting my stomach, wrenching and writhing my insides to coils of pain, fuck that’s literally all I can think about. Food. Nutrients. Solids. Anything edible, Christ I’ll eat a bug if I see one. Something for my stomach to absorb other than itself, the acids used to digest food bubbling and gurgling hot. Thin arms despairingly dangling to and fro as I look down to see tattered rags loosely fluttering in the cloudy autumn wind, loose cloth swinging with the motion of a pair of pool cue legs, lead by a duo of filthy, worn, once white sneakers.
The sidewalk being a treadmill, leading me nowhere as cracked cement squares passed under my soles, one after another. My trip to nowhere muted under the clatter of rattling mufflers and whizzing traffic, deliberate scraping of cement and sneaker if I listen closely. Yet past, or I should say inside, from the outside world, hunger’s yell booms out all other thought. Hell it’s actually the only thing keeping me going at this point. If I could, I would just lay down right here and die, but from upbringing I was taught never to take the easy way out. Besides, death by hunger would take too long, I would prefer to go quick at this point. Roaming around at night sometimes I hope a driver has had a cocktail too many and accidently swerves my way. Quick. Given they’re going fast enough, but then again if I lived I would get money from the driver somehow. Either way I wouldn’t be starving anymore so that’s a plus. I would Run away from the scene if able, away from the ambulances and cops and sirens and lights and all that other shit we never see as a welcome sight. Isn’t that some shit? To a point where most people hate the one’s who are supposed to be keeping the peace?
Burly fingers suddenly clenched my guts together as my stomach writhed in pain from hunger, the matchstick poles almost collapsing under the weight of my scrawny physique, staggering on the bastard of cement treadmill I can barely keep up with anymore. A single calorie would be life changing at this point, nausea lingered with no solids in my stomach, and the outside of my peripherals seem dark and faint, my grasp on the world was fading, I honestly don’t know how much longer I can last, borrowed time at this point.
I turn right at the next stoplight, a small group of young adults walking my way on the sidewalk. Jumping between every couple of eyes in the group, correspondingly the pupils veer their regard to something behind me or to the side of me. Gawking idiots. Smiles, laughing, good times had by all. Fuck them. Them and their good times. Everything about them. Any of these people’s biggest worry throughout the day being what to do with their golf swing, or their 22 0z beer has too much head, because god forbid if there is too much head on a beer.. Never having to scrounge through dumpsters, or begging from couples for their leftovers as they walk out the doors of the corner grill, prizing whatever contents are inside their Styrofoam casing above anything else. Scavenging for everything and anything, reaping whatever resources can be found be it a leaking water drain or old meat thrown out by the butcher.
The cluster of young hot partygoers pass closely, I walk through the midst of them and feel their expression impulsively snap to disgust as my scent wafts through their sinuses. Disgust and hatred being their only feelings toward this pinnacle of scum that might accidently brush designer clothing. My fate and lifestyle determined by them before a single word can even be exchanged. My past or how I got here my own damn fault in their mind, world, and universe. Not screwed over or just unfortunate with life and the events that it entails.
A walking parasite of humanity is all I’ve become. Having trouble maintaining survival after I have nothing left. Not even a penny. All I want to do is live to see the next day, cause maybe things will get better, a warm light with a welcoming caress that’ll pull me from the uncaring loneliness that surrounds me day and night. Because I don’t have the money to pay for a home, or the inheritance to engrave my lighter. And no I haven’t tried the new triple burger some big name fast food company is pumping out, or the new single dominating the charts.
I can’t enjoy any of these things, the time do them is gone. All I am now is a walking parasite of society shunned from everyone in this town time and time again. But not for long, I’ll be one less burden soon the way things are looking, especially with winter coming back around again. A heavy memento as the crisp aroma of Fall blew brown, orange and yellow leaves all around me as I passed the entrance to a local park, the trash cans occasionally including scraps that would do quite well right now.
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